Engine Failure
by Soursugar88
Summary: Litwak's Arcade is closed for the next week and a half, and Turbo, Throttle, and Piston race right after the arcade closes. Unfortunately, something bad happens to one of the racers. That is an understatement.
1. Tragedy

_A/N: hey, it's me Soursugar88, and I... hey, sweet... Do I smell a new story? Wait, that's just chocolate. But.. I did make a new story! The vague idea for this story came from my dad,(and by 'vauge,' I mean he just said the title, and who is the unlucky one.) So, enjoy the delves of... My delves. Now I gotta go and find that chocolate._

* * *

Chapter one: Tragedy

"But, Turbo, you know why I can't race!"

"I know you're just making that rattling sound up, Piston."

"But- but I'm not!"

"Starting line. Now."

Piston let out a little groan as Turbo walked away. It was true, there was a rattling sound going on in his engine. It started after the arcade closed, and stopped when Turbo came to tell him to get his pixelated hindquarters to the starting line. He buried his face in his hands as it started up again. He nervously climbed into his kart as he made his way to the starting line. Maybe he could go slower than usual. Since Piston didn't know what exactly was making that noise, he had to be cautious. He didn't want an explosion. As he took his place on the starting line, the noise died down a little, not audible over the sound of the other engines. Piston ran his hand down his face and began to tremble inwardly. It was like Fate had a bone to pick with him. Why? He was always the nicest one out of the three racers in TurboTime. He rarely left his game, and he didn't fight. He tried to shrug it off as Turbo revved up his engine. Without warning, he pulled Piston close to his face.

"Listen," Turbo spat out through clenched teeth, "Litwak's is closed for the next week and a half. I intend to spend that time around Game Central Station. You will not talk to me, try to socialize with me, or follow me around like a little lost puppy. Understood?"

Piston nodded his head best he could while Turbo was holding him by the collar. He unceremoniously plunked Piston back in his kart. Piston gulped as he tried to calm himself down, with an angry Turbo added to his list of problems. He gripped the steering wheel as he waited for the signal that told the racers to go, aka the green light. Piston tried to calm himself down.

'It's no big deal,' he thought to himself, 'you're just overreacting!' But, he knew he was lying to himself. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Turbo jerking him out of his seat again.

"One more thing: don't slow down like you usually do. I want this to be interesting, after racing against you two for four years now." He threw Piston back in his seat again, and Piston hoped that was the end of it. Also, two times isn't 'usually', and besides, he had excuses those two times! The first time, there was something wrong with the pedals. The second time, the steering wheel had a tendency to snap to the side, and Piston didn't want to crash. Turbo didn't listen to him either time. He trained his eyes forward as he realized that the race just started, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator just in time. He realized the rattling noise was just about gone as he made the first turn.

So far, so good.

Of course, as Piston would learn, so far, so good doesn't mean that things will stay good. He sped up to reach that second turn, when he felt something slam on the side of his kart. Turbo sped past him, and Piston realized that the rattling noise started up again. He tried to slow down for the incoming turn, and...

"Piston! Slow down!" Throttle was yelling to him from his kart.

"I can't!" Piston replied, with fear in his voice.

'I can't die in this game, I can't die in this game, I can't die in this game,' Piston repeated in his head, 'I'll just regenerate.' He tried to maneuver cleverly to make the turn, but the steering wheel wasn't responding. It was like every bad thing that ever happened to his kart rolled into one karmic experience. Piston let out a sort of half scream as his kart veered off the track and that rattling noise was getting louder and faster by the second, until it was just a loud whirr. Out of the corner of his eye, Piston saw that Throttle had slammed on the brakes and was watching in horror, and Turbo didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. The tires of Piston's kart twisted the wrong way and the whole kart flipped over and started rolling, with Piston still in it. That rattling noise was getting louder, now accompanied with a noise that sounded like some liquid was sloshing around. He tucked himself in a ball, trying to protect himself the best he could. He thought he heard something explode, and he hoped against hope that it was not what he thought it was. Piston brought his head up enough so that he could see, and, to his horror, he saw that indeed, yes he was not in contact with the ground. He tried to make himself in a ball more, as he braced for impact.

* * *

Throttle, meanwhile, was standing at the side of the track, looking on in utter horror. Once Piston's kart stopped its crazed moving, he bolted there as fast as he could run. He circled the smoldering kart, trying to locate Piston. It was no secret that TurboTime didn't have very advanced coding, so Throttle couldn't be sure if Piston had regenerated while the game wasn't being played. Throttle wasn't sure if he should be relived or horrified when he saw a limp hand sticking out from under the kart. He grunted as he lifted the kart off Piston and gasped when he saw his limp form. Piston had scorch marks on his face, and, as Throttle felt around, numerous broken bones. Piston's helmet, for some reason, was halfway off his head. Throttle slowly slid the helmet off his twin's head, and gagged when he saw the blood pooled in it. Throttle snapped his head up to look for some help, any help! He didn't know of any doctor games around here, and he didn't have any friends, so it was only him and Turbo. As Throttle looked at Turbo accepting the trophy on the winners' podium, oblivious, or uncaring, to the situation, he decided that he shouldn't really expect help from Turbo. Throttle was jolted back to reality with a pained groan. He looked down, to see that Piston was conscious. Throttle looked down at his brother and started to tremble.

"Why won't you regenerate? WHY WON'T YOU REGENERATE?!" Throttle yelled to Piston in frustration. Piston just shook his head slightly and smiled weakly. He went limp again as he slipped into unconsciousness. Throttle grudgingly turned his head up to the red and white clad racer walking towards the house, admiring the trophy. Guess he had no other choice.

* * *

Turbo walked over to the house behind the stands, admiring the umpteenth trophy he won today, when he heard thundering footsteps behind him. He curiously turned around to see Throttle running towards him at the fastest speed he could muster. Turbo stopped and raised an eyebrow at Throttle, who finally reached him.

"Tur.. Turbo... Ugh..." Throttle managed to gasp out, completely out of breath from running all the way to the house.

"What?" Turbo replied impatiently. He didn't have time for whatever it is that Throttle needed him for.

"Turbo," Throttle began, "can NPCs in this game regenerate?"

"No, they can't, they were never supposed to die, so regeneration isn't in their code. Why?"

"So, if either me or Piston got severely injured in a race, we would stay like that?"

"Yeah, it takes the same amount of time for a NPC's injuries to heal as a real world person's. Why?"

"Uh huh," Throttle regarded with a nod of the head. "And, how long does it take for broken bones to heal?"

"I dunno, six weeks, and for the third time, why?" It was then Turbo noticed the tears pooled up in the others' eyes. He brought his hand up to his forehead.

"What now?" Turbo asked impatiently.

"What now?" Throttle was looking at him dumbfounded. "What now?!"

"Sheesh, calm down. I really don't see what the big deal is."

"THE BIG DEAL!? _LOOK!"_ Throttle yanked Turbo's collar to where he could see the remains of Piston's kart. He looked at the damage the best he could while his collar was being twisted.

"Yeesh," was all Turbo said. He tightened his grip on the handles of his trophy, obviously trying to think up an excuse on why he couldn't help.

"Uhm, well, Throttle, I'm busy. I have to polish, this," he gestured to the trophy he now had a death grip on, "and go, um, out to Game Central Station, and, um, to Tapper," Turbo gave the whole string of excuses with frequent breaks.

"Turbo, which is more important? Your trophy or your brother?"

Turbo eyed the trophy in his hands.

"The trophy_ is_ less nerve-grating."

Throttle looked just about ready to explode.

"Listen, Piston is out there, unconscious, with Code-knows-how-many broken bones, and a head injury!"

Turbo eyed him. "What do you want me to do?"

Throttle was flabbergasted. "HELP ME!"

"Why?" Turbo asked, "I don't like Piston."

Throttle glared at him. "For _ONCE_ in your four year existence, would it _KILL_ you to care about someone _OTHER THAN YOURSELF_?!" Throttle's face was red after that statement. Turbo just shrugged.

"Fine!" Throttle threw his arms up in exasperation, "don't help me. Stay here and ogle over you trophy." He ran back in the direction he came. Turbo relaxed his grip on the trophy and continued walking back to the house.

_'Don't think about it,'_ he reminded himself, _'the idiot will just regenerate when the game gets played again in a week and a half. Don't worry! Just spend the whole week and a half in Game Central Station like you planned! Don't worry, you have much better things to do.'_ Turbo reached the house and nonchalantly threw the trophy inside and walked back to the exit of the game. Midway, he passed the wreckage, and Throttle crouching over what Turbo thought was Piston, though he couldn't see Piston himself. He forced himself to pry his eyes away from the wreck.

_'After all,'_ he reassured himself, _'what's the worse that could've happened?'_

* * *

_A/N: Ahhh! Turbo! Don't you know never to say 'what's the worse that could've happened' in a story! Ah, well, live and learn (not). And, really, what is wrong with me, the things I do to Piston in the name of the plot. Please review, It's nice to know that someone is liking this._


	2. Problems

_A/N: the new chapter's here, earlier than expected, now with new and improved Personal Hells for the trio. (Patent pending.) Seriously, with the things I do to all of them now, I'm beginning to think that 'plot=evil.'_

* * *

Chapter two: Problems

Throttle was slouched over Piston, his hand pressed to the others' head, trying to stop the bleeding. He gingerly laid Piston's head back down as he got up to retrieve his own kart. When he got up, he noticed Turbo staring at him. Turbo backed away a little and jammed his thumb in the direction of the game's exit.

"Tapper," he said simply. Throttle slowly nodded his head and ran for his kart. Turbo inched closer to the wreckage, now not denying he was curious. He gagged when he saw Piston sprawled on the ground. He was frozen, staring at him, until he heard Throttle's kart approaching. He hightailed it from there and out into Game Central Station. Throttle pulled up next to Piston and loaded him on his kart the best he could. He slowly drove to the house, where he faced yet another problem.

What a surprise.

Throttle had to somehow get an unconscious Piston through half the house. He couldn't drag Piston, his leg was broken, and he couldn't lift him, Throttle and Piston were the same weight. And, he couldn't use his go kart. Stairs. He sighed and slowly laid Piston on the ground right next to the house. He got in his kart and sped towards the exit.

* * *

Meanwhile, Turbo was in Tapper, just staring at his drink. Tapper noticed this, and came over to him.

"Hey, Turbo, anything wrong?"

Turbo snapped his head up like someone pointed a gun at him, then relaxed a little when he saw it was just Tapper.

"N- no, nothing's wrong. What gave you that idea?"

"Well, for starters, you're just staring at your drink, instead of gulping it down as fast as you can, like you usually do."

Turbo looked down. "I- it's nothing."

Tapper raised a brow at him. "You sure sound like it's something."

"Really, it isn't."

Tapper was about to say something else, when he was interrupted by someone crazily running and calling Turbo's name. That someone pushed away the last of the characters and grabbed Turbo's arm

"Throttle, let go of me," Turbo said through clenched teeth.

"Turbo, I need your help."

"Well, you have a nerve running into Tapper like a madman!"

"I'm sorry," Throttle said sarcastically, "I guess leaving the game when your own brother almost died is okay then?!"

"I never said th_aaaaa_-" Turbo cut off and stared at the arm Throttle was holding, because Throttle had tried to stop the bleeding on Piston's head with his hand, and he used the same hand to latch on Turbo, who flung Throttle's arm off him and tried to use his sleeve to clean the bloody handprint now adorning his jumpsuit. Throttle just huffed and grabbed Turbo again, using the bloody hand out of spite, and dragged him back to TurboTime. Turbo's face turned red as he heard laughter behind him.

* * *

Throttle dragged Turbo all the way back to TurboTime, with Turbo going on and on about how he needed to get away from this, or he's annoyed by that, and how he was supposed to be in this game, with these people, many of which whom Throttle never heard about. He was getting fed up with Turbo, but he needed help with Piston, and he had nowhere else to get it.

"Why do you need me here, anyways?" Turbo interjected.

Throttle said nothing, just stopped at the front of the house and gestured to Piston. Turbo forced himself to look at him, and Throttle saw that he looked like he was about to vomit, and he had an idea.

"Okay, you win," Throttle held his hands up in an 'I surrender' position, "you can go. I don't need your help, after all, I know I'd better not force you to do this, what with you being scared of blood and all..."

"I'm not scared of blood!"

"Denial...", Throttle said in a singsong voice.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, fine. I know for a fact that you won't help me with Piston because you're scared of blood."

"I'm not!"

"Prove it!"

"Fine!" Turbo threw his arms up. "I'll stay. But you owe me."

* * *

Throttle and Turbo, after quite the many trips and stumbles, finally managed to get Piston in his bed. He was still unconscious, which worried Throttle to no end. The twosome looked at an unconscious Piston.

"Great. Now what, genius?" Turbo asked mockingly.

"I'm thinking."

"I'm going to go think... Outside." Throttle grabbed Turbo's wrist before he could head out, not seeing through the lie.

"Look at him," Throttle commanded.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Turbo turned his head slowly towards Piston, who was laying limp on the bed, still unconscious. Some sort of pit was forming in Turbo, who quickly brushed it off.

"And..." Turbo gave a full body look that said 'finish the statement'.

"And?" Throttle repeated, surprised, "and, aren't you concerned?"

"No. He'll live."

Throttle was_ *this* _close to taking the nearest projectile and demolishing an unlucky object until it was unrecognizable in a frustrated rage. He stiffly walked out of the room to... To... Somewhere, Turbo didn't care where. He heard something moving behind him, and he turned around to see that Piston was conscious, and staring at him. He looked ready to slip away again, though.

"What?" Turbo asked simply.

"I told you there was something wrong with my engine," Piston managed to rasp out.

"What, was that supposed to make me feel guilty?"

"It wasn't supposed to make you feel anything."

Turbo turned away from Piston, trying to comprehend exactly what was happening. In truth, he would feel a _little_ better if Piston started flipping out on him. He exited the room calmly, and walked downstairs, not fully aware of what he was doing. He saw Throttle at the table, and he was shaking. Turbo gave the other's shoulder a light tap, and, when Throttle turned around, wordlessly jammed his thumb upstairs. Throttle bolted up, pushed Turbo aside, and ran upstairs so fast that Turbo only registered it when he was on the floor and Throttle was nowhere in sight. Turbo picked himself up and went upstairs too. He stepped in Piston's room, where Throttle was asking him all sorts of things, too fast for Piston to even answer. Piston clearly wanted to say something, but couldn't get it in with Throttle's constant barrage of questions. Turbo simply walked up to Throttle, and put his hand over Throttle's mouth. He kept it there for a few seconds, and when he let go, motioned to Piston to start talking. Piston turned his head towards Throttle.

"Throttle," he started, "don't worry about me. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt, really it doesn't." Turbo just put his finger lightly on Piston's arm, which was visibly broken. Piston gave an exclamation of pain that didn't really sound like it was supposed to exist. Turbo jerked his finger away at that. Throttle had his hand over his mouth in concern, and Turbo was now leaning casually against the wall.

"Piston," Throttle began to ask, "what exactly happened out there?"

Piston had a look of concentration, when he finally answered, "I, um, I heard this rattling noise in my engine, and I guess something was loose, I don't know. And... Well... You know the rest." Throttle stared at Piston, clearly expressing doubt. "Piston, what exactly possessed you to race with that rattling noise?"

Piston looked over Throttle's shoulder at Turbo, who was staring at his feet.

"I just wanted to race, I guess. I really have no other explanation for it." Piston lied through his teeth for that statement. Throttle wordlessly nodded his head and backed away out of the room. "I think I'd better leave. You need your rest, I'd better go now, I guess," he said uncertainty. Throttle closed the door after him, apparently forgetting that Turbo was still there. Turbo angrily exited the room, mumbling something under his breath about incompetence.

* * *

Throttle was outside, under the stands, to make sure Turbo didn't see him like this. To elaborate, he was coiled up in a ball, trying to wrap his head around everything that was happening. He stiffened when he heard footsteps behind him. He tried to reassure himself that Turbo didn't see him, and that he was just passing by. After all, it was so far under the stands that it was pretty much pitch black, an impossible place to find. His heart turned to lead when he heard the sound of someone else crawling around the stands. Throttle tried to reassure himself that there was no way that Turbo would find him... Unless he knew the spot. But that was imposs...

"What are you doing here?!"

Of course.

Turbo was standing upright under the stands, face conveying an expression of shock mixed with... What was that other one? Fear?

"What are you doing here?" Throttle asked back, confused.

"I was looking for you. You should take care of Piston, so I can leave this game and spend the week and a half we have on break away from you two idiots. And, also, if you see a rat, don't try to kill it. Trust me, it doesn't work."

"Okay..." Throttle said uncertainly. "How did you know where to find me?"

Turbo stared at his shoes. "I saw you come in here," he said quickly.

Throttle stood up, and looked at him, evident that he didn't believe Turbo. Nonetheless, he tried to worm his way out of the wooden supports snaking all around the underside of the stands, but soon got stuck. This was his first time down here, after all. Turbo weaved through the supports, and Throttle felt him pushing on his foot, moving it some way and getting it unstuck. Throttle gave a nod of thanks and continued weaving his way out. The two soon exited the maze of supports, Throttle's eyes stinging from the sudden transition from dark to light. He blinked a few times then headed back to the house, with Turbo following him close behind.

* * *

Turbo was relived that he managed to think up a lie that quick under the stands. If Throttle knew what he was really there for, he'd never let Turbo live it down. Now that the shock-and-relief combo was wearing off, Turbo realized exactly how tired he was. He slowly shuffled to his room, not really awake that much now. He crawled into bed, and, just out of curiosity, put his ear up to the wall. His and Piston's rooms were right next to each other, so he could hear certain things, and vice versa. He couldn't make out words, but it was clear that Throttle was concerned about something, and Piston was trying to get him to stop worrying. Soon, all the noise died down, and Turbo tried to fall asleep himself. He found that, even though he was dead tired, he couldn't fall asleep.

Add _that_ to the long list of problems that go on in that house.

* * *

_A/N: See? I told you, new and improved Hells. _

_New. And. Improved. As always, reviews are appreciated. They make me work faster... Like a force of nature._


	3. Treatment

_A/N: okay... Chapter three. Huzzah. (Crickets). Turbo's being a jerk in this story. In fact, I don't even feel bad for all the stuff I put him through._

* * *

Chapter Three: Treatment

Throttle woke up on the floor of some room. He propped himself up on one arm and looked around.

Right. He'd fallen asleep on the floor of Piston's room. He tried to leave as quietly as possible, and once that was accomplished, he found he had another problem in his hands. He didn't know the first thing about anything that happened to Piston, let alone how to heal it. He was sure Turbo didn't know either, and none of the three racers had any friends outside the game. Throttle decided to retreat to that spot under the stands to think, after all, Turbo probably wouldn't search there again when he saw the trouble that he had with the maneuverability.

* * *

A good ten minutes of getting stuck, losing direction, and crawling around later, Throttle was sure that he found the spot. He stuck his hand out to feel for what served as the wall, because this was a corner spot, and he recoiled when he felt something cold and smooth. That something quickly climbed up the supports like a pro. Throttle wondered who was down here? Was it Turbo? A glitch? Something else? He flung his arm out and grabbed the ankle of whoever-it-was before he could get away. The other person struggled, but Throttle only tightened his grip.

"Let go. Of. My leg."

Throttle was shocked at the voice, now that this other person spoke, he was sure it was Turbo.

"Turbo," Throttle said softly, "why are you always here?" Throttle expected Turbo to continue with his thrashing, but instead he climbed down the supports until he and Throttle were both at eye level.

"Why do you care?" It was strange the way Turbo said that. He didn't sound curious, or authoritative. He sounded confused.

"Because, it's a little strange that yesterday you said that you were looking for me here, and it was your first time here, but you maneuver the supports like a pro!"

Turbo stared at his shoes. "Who said yesterday was my first time here?"

Throttle raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I just assumed that yesterday was your first time here." Then, a thought struck him.

"Turbo, all those times when you disappeared, and neither me or Piston could find you? And, you were missing for hours? Were you here?"

Turbo looked at his feet nervously before nodding his head. Throttle placed a hand on his shoulder, because it was clear that Turbo was at least a little embarrassed about being caught down under the stands. He climbed up over Throttle's head, Throttle himself struggling to catch up.

* * *

Turbo couldn't believe himself. Why in Code did he tell Throttle all that? Maybe it had to do with the fact that he didn't sleep last night. But, that shouldn't have been an issue. Video game characters only get one hour of sleep per night, and they can miss one night of sleep. Miss two in a row, though, and the effects are the same as when a real world person loses the full eight hours. Turbo didn't realize that he was unconsciously following Throttle until they were both in the house. Throttle stopped dead in his tracks, with Turbo right behind him, and peeked into Piston's room. He was still asleep, as Throttle noted, and he ducked back out. Throttle noted that there was something that he had to do for the broken bones, but he didn't know what. He turned around to face Turbo.

"Turbo, do you have any knowledge of how to treat broken bones? Cause I don't."

"No, and why?"

"Why?! I'm sorry, did you somehow not notice the half broken racer in that room?" Throttle said sardonically while jamming his thumb over to the general direction of the door to Piston's room.

"Wait, you think I'm going to stay here? No, you just dragged me out of _Tapper_ so I could help you get Piston into the house. Nothing more!"

Throttle stared sadly at Turbo. "I really was expecting more," he said, barley a whisper. "I think I need lowered expectations."

"I think you do too," Turbo said coldly, before heading out of the house. Throttle trudged into Piston's room, trying to think up a way to treat Piston's injuries without any knowledge of the sorts. He remembered seeing some real world kids with something wrapped around their leg, and telling their friends it was broken. So, he came to the assumption that he possibly had to wrap something around wherever the broken parts were. He remembered that the things seemed sturdy, so sturdy wraps. Throttle started to think about things that could've served as the 'sturdy' part and the 'wrap' part. He thought of things instantly for the 'wrap' part, but the 'sturdy' part... Nothing. Throttle started to pace, but couldn't think with the floorboards creaking under his feet.

Of course!

Throttle dashed outside, to the garage next to the house, where all the spare parts and stuff for the karts go. There were also some tools there too, and Throttle went looking for one in particular: a wrench. It wasn't the best tool for the job, actually, it didn't fit the bill at all, but Throttle took it anyways, also grabbing a roll of duct tape, just in case. He rushed back into the house, also grabbing a knife, hoping it would help. He sat in the corner of the first floor room, and started to pry up the floorboards using a combination of the wrench and knife. He succeeded on getting a few boards out, and taking them to two chairs, and using the chairs as support, chopping them in half, managed to get enough long, thin pieces of wood. He gathered up the wood and tape, and went upstairs and dumped all that stuff on the floor in Piston's room. Throttle also retreated back to his own room, and pulled out a box from under his bed containing some extra sheets, which Throttle proceeded to bring downstairs. He started to lay them on the floor and cut them up into smaller pieces using the knife. He dragged everything down because he didn't want a half awake Piston getting the wrong idea about the knife. Soon, he had everything the sizes he wanted, so he gathered the rest of the materials up, and proceeded upstairs. Throttle slowly entered Piston's room, with its occupant wide awake and staring at him.

"Piston," Throttle began, "I'm going to try to fix your broken bones. I've never done this before, but I know it will hurt, but if this works, it'll be less painful afterwards."

Piston didn't say anything, but nodded his head with a thoughtful expression on his face. Throttle wondered how exactly he was supposed to do this. He didn't think that you just threw the stuff on the bone. You had to do something else. He thought about what someone might do for a broken bone. To get an idea about what he was up against, he gently ran his hand on the lower part of Piston's leg, where he knew something was broken. It first felt like a normal leg, but then Throttle felt the spot where it was broken. It was snapped in two, and the second part stuck up, resulting in Piston's leg being bent at a funny angle. Throttle decided that maybe the two bone parts should be in their original positions, and that thing real world people wear is to keep it in place. Throttle grasped the two sides of Piston's leg, and when he looked over to Piston, found that he was less calm than Piston himself. He saw Piston gritting his teeth together in perpetration. Throttle sucked in a deep breath and pushed the two halves together. He finally succeeded, and he placed two of the wood strips on Piston's leg, top to bottom, because that seemed like a logical place, given the bone used to jut up. He took some of the strips of sheet and tightly wrapped them on Piston's leg until it was covered completely. Throttle stepped back to survey his handiwork. Not bad for the first time. He saw that Piston was panting a little bit, and his face was red. Must be because he was gritting his teeth all the while. Piston switched from staring at the ceiling to staring at Throttle. "Piston," Throttle asked, "how's it feel?", referring to the sort of cast.

"Well, my leg hurts less," Piston answered. That was good. If that one leg was fine, then Throttle was doing it right.

One down, code-knows-how-many more to go.

* * *

It was nighttime when Throttle finally got done with all of Piston's broken bones, though he still had that nasty head injury to deal with. He was amazed at how much he learned that day. Let's see, he found out that Turbo was even more callous than what Throttle gave him credit for, he figured out how to treat broken bones (or at least how he thinks they're treated), and he learned that Piston had fractures or dislocations in fifteen different places. He heard the front door open, then close, signifying that Turbo was home from wherever he was that day. Throttle heard something that sounded like step, step, trip, try to get up, trip, crawl, hit something, give up. He went downstairs to investigate, to find that Turbo was repeating the cycle again and was now on 'try to get up.' Throttle knew at that moment where exactly Turbo was the whole day. _Tapper. _And now, he's suffering the consequences. Throttle sighed and helped Turbo up, even though some part of him was saying to leave him there. Throttle walked upstairs with Turbo leaning on him the whole way up. Before Throttle could plunk Turbo in his bed, he heard Turbo muttering something under his breath.

"the arcade...close... Rottl... Ace..."

Throttle realized that Turbo was acting out the events of the previous day. He remembered Turbo coming up to him and saying, "The arcade's closed, Throttle, you want to race?" He, of course, agreed.

"M gon... T... Ston."

That statement Throttle remembered as "I'm going to get Piston." He wondered what Turbo said to Piston. There was a long pause, then Turbo started acting out his conversation with Piston. As if Fate meant for Throttle to hear this, it was a little less garbled and Throttle could hear all of it.

"Piston, get your pixilated hindquarters to the starting line." Throttle was amazed at the contrast between the two offers.

"That is the worst excuse I ever heard."

Throttle began to put two and two together, and he hoped Turbo didn't confirm his suspicions.

"I know you're just making that rattling sound up, Piston."

Throttle could not recall another time he was this angry at anything before.

"Starting line. Now."

Throttle began to see red, and flung the half asleep Turbo on the floor. He stormed out his room, and this time purposely slept on the floor of Piston's room. He wanted to know why exactly Piston had lied for Turbo.

* * *

_A/N: Ohhhhh Turbo, you're in big trouble..._

_Might be some time before the next update. I have ideas, but I can't put them down on paper, well, virtual paper, and I can't have the chapters too short. A minimum of 1,000 words, nothing less. Not even 999 words. I also have another story that I've been lagging on, so I have to get back to that._


	4. Trouble

_A/N: okay, I almost upchucked writing this. Gah... But, I had to do something with that head injury. It's not like it will fade into nothingness._

* * *

Chapter four: Trouble

Turbo didn't sleep at all that night. Even though he was hammered, he didn't fall asleep. He knew there was a name for his situation. Inso- something. He forced himself to get up and leave his room. He was at Tapper all day yesterday, and now today he wanted to game-jump into another game. He opened the door to leave, and was knocked to the floor by an unidentified object. He tried to comprehend what was going on, when he was hoisted up from the floor by his collar and slammed into the wall. Turbo found that his attacker was Throttle, and he looked angry about something. Turbo couldn't figure out what, though, the inso-something kept him from remembering what.

"Are you happy now?" Throttle asked through clenched teeth.

"What?" Turbo muttered, not really down to earth.

Throttle tightened his grip on Turbo's collar.

"Throttle, I can't breathe," Turbo gasped out while he tried to pry Throttle's hands off his collar.

"You think you could hide it from me forever?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Turbo managed to say.

"Don't know what- you- it's _your _fault that Piston's nearly dead! What did you _do _to him to make him lie for you?!"

"Didn't-know-about-the lie," Turbo choked out between attempts at getting a breath.

Throttle muttered something under his breath and dragged Turbo into Piston's room. Piston was awake, because Throttle woke him up to confront him about the lie, but when he heard Turbo's door open, he left to chew him out instead. Piston's eyes bugged out at the sight of Turbo.

"Throttle, put him down, you're suffocating him!"

Throttle did nothing. "Tell me why you lied for Turbo," he demanded.

"I didn't want this to happen! Now put him down!"

Throttle thrust his hand out and released Turbo, sending him to meet the floor. He gasped for air and coughed violently. Once he started breathing normally again, he got up and faced Throttle.

"I had no idea Piston would lie for me," he said.

"But, you could've told me what really happened," Throttle pointed out.

"This may be surprising to hear, but I don't particularly enjoy being suffocated," Turbo retorted back while rubbing his neck. The inso-something might mess with him, but he was still Turbo. Throttle thought for a second, then turned to face Turbo.

"Turbo, I have to go somewhere for the day. It's very important, and I have to go. You will stay here and look after Piston."

Turbo stared at Throttle for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. He doubled over, then looked up at Throttle, who was looking at him with a 'you're kidding me' look.

"... Oh, you're serious?" Throttle nodded, and on that less than happy note, left abruptly, leaving Turbo and Piston staring at the door.

"That was strange," Piston remarked, summing it up nicely. Turbo didn't answer, just stared at the door like he was expecting it to come to life.

"So, you're stuck here for the day?" Piston rhetorically asked Turbo, trying to clear the awkward atmosphere.

"I guess so." Turbo finally turned around to face Piston.

"What are all those things tied on you?" Turbo asked, trying to act normal. He didn't want Piston or Throttle to find out about his inso-something.

"Throttle did some things to my broken bones, and I think he moved everything so they're back in the right place, and those things are to keep it there."

Turbo inspected Piston, trying to get a grasp on how bad things were. He was covered with those tied on things that Turbo didn't know the name of, but Turbo noticed that the head injury still wasn't treated.

"Hey, Piston, do you think if I fix your head injury, it'll set me even?"

Piston looked a little hurt at the question, but decided to answer anyways.

"Not 'even', but at least Throttle won't try to suffocate you again."

Turbo seemed pleased by this answer, but how was he supposed to go fixing a head injury when he had no knowledge of doing so, or when he was half asleep due to the inso... Inso...

Insomnia! That's what it's called. Okay, one problem down, one to go. Turbo inspected the head injury, and tried hard to keep the contents of his stomach _in_ his stomach. Throttle was half right when he said that Turbo was scared of blood. He wasn't scared per say, but the sight of the stuff made him want to upchuck. Turbo glanced at Piston.

"Any ideas?" He asked Piston.

"No. You?"

"No." Turbo bit down on his tongue and lightly ran one finger on the injury. Piston showed expressions of pain, but didn't say anything. Turbo decided the best thing would be ice, but he couldn't do anything else when he couldn't see it anyways. Crusty. Turbo tried to scrape the stuff off to see what exactly he was up against. He had no problems in that department, but when he saw the damage itself, Turbo must've temporarily forgot he had insomnia when he bolted out of Piston's room to empty the contents of his stomach in the nearest vaguely bucket-shaped object that wasn't one of his trophies.

One hundred and eighteen vaguely bucket-shaped objects later, Turbo returned back to Piston's room.

"Turbo... How bad is it?" Piston asked uncertainty, referring to the injury. Turbo leaned on the wall as he tried to get an accurate answer to Piston's question.

"Piston, how do I put this lightly... It looks like some alien abomination laid its eggs in your head." Piston's eyes bugged out at the statement, hoping that Turbo was exaggerating.

"Turbo, tell me you're exaggerating."

"That was an understatement."

"Tell me you have ideas."

"None."

Piston seemed to get more and more nervous with each word. Turbo noticed this and tried to get him to stop worrying.

"You'll live. Stop worrying."

The whole 'comfort' thing was never Turbo's forte.

* * *

Turbo was sitting in that same spot for an hour and a half, trying to think up a way to fix that... Thing on Piston's head... To set himself even, mind you. Neither of them had any ideas. Turbo decided that setting himself even wasn't worth it, and got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Piston asked nervously.

"Somewhere that I will remotely enjoy being," Turbo snapped back at him. Not even bothering to look back at Piston, he stormed outside. Once he was out of the house, Turbo collapsed on the ground. He was dead tired, and also even more tired of hiding it from Piston. He cracked one eye open to see Throttle in the distance. Turbo tried to move as fast as he could into the house. He half ran in the house and slammed the door. Turbo just made it into Piston's room, when he heard the front door open. Turbo tried to look as normal as possible, which generally meant looking bored, while awake. The door to Piston's room creaked open, and Throttle stepped in. He seemed a little shaken up at something, but Turbo didn't care. He simply pushed past Throttle and retreated back to his own room. Turbo at once pressed his ear against the wall, to see what everyone was talking about. He heard Piston first:

"Throttle, where were you all day?"

"I was looking at your kart, trying to figure out why it exploded."

"And..."

"I didn't find anything, really. It was all just wreckage. I mean, it was a miracle you made it out with these injuries. It could have been much worse."

A pause. Then, Turbo heard Throttle say,

"Piston, I want to know, why did you really lie for Turbo? I know you weren't telling the truth this morning."

Turbo didn't hear anything else after that, so he pressed his ear to the wall even more to find out if he could hear anything else. Turbo could hear one of the twins breathing rapidly, and it wasn't that hard to figure out that it was Piston.

"I'm asking again, why did you lie for Turbo? Tell me, Piston."

"I.. I don't know! I really don't know! Stop staring at me like that! You're making me nervous!" Turbo scoffed at how melodramatic Piston sounded. He sounded on the verge of tears at the end. Turbo really didn't want to hear any more, so he pounded on the wall to get the twins' attention.

"Shut up!" He complained. The noise stopped instantly, then Turbo heard Throttle yelling.

"Inconsiderate little stuck-up callous...!" Then something clattering on the floor. Turbo just shrugged it off and rolled back over, until he heard Throttle slowly opening the door. Turbo stared at Throttle, who was slowly advancing towards Turbo.

"Do you think this is a _joke_?" He said through clenched teeth. Turbo tried to drown out Throttle, but to no avail.

"Turbo, Piston could've _died_. Okay? He's mostly broken over in the next room, all because you forced him to race with a bad engine! This is _all your fault!"_

Turbo said nothing, only rolled over downwards and waved his hand in a 'go away' motion. He stayed facedown until he heard Throttle walk out of his room. Turbo lay on his side and thought, _'Maybe Throttle's right. No, no Turbo. No. Throttle isn't right. It isn't your fault his engine was busted! I mean, there are many other scenes where I could see Piston in that same crash. It's not your fault!'_

Turbo was reassuring himself too late. The pit has begun to form.

* * *

_A/N:So, this chapter... A good one? Oh, and it seems I'm not done with that alien thing on Piston's head (I like calling it that), so I shall get back to that soon enough._


	5. Hallucinations

_A/N: C-H-A-P-T-E-R F-I-V-E! Chapter five! Chapter five! Yeaaaah!_

_... Way for me to make a big deal over a new chapter. Oh, by the way, I just thought I'd say this, that chapters one and two are the same day, day 1, so chapter three spans day 2, and chapter four spans day 3, and..._

_You get the picture. Just thought I'd say._

* * *

Chapter five: Hallucinations

Turbo spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, thinking about some things. The pit that formed in his gut refused to leave, and Turbo wondered what it was. He thought that maybe it was some emotion, but he forgot its name. That night, instead of only one hour, Turbo stayed in bed for eight hours, alternating between thinking and listening to whatever was going on in Piston's room, which usually was Throttle stressing out and Piston trying to get him to stop. Turbo has given up on the whole 'trying to sleep' deal, because it was clear that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Why, Turbo had no clue. Anyways, he decided just laying there and feeling sorry for himself wasn't the best thing to do all day, so he grudgingly dragged himself out of bed. Everything he saw was blurry, do to his eyes being just open slits. He trudged into the hall, where he saw Throttle out of the corner of his eye. Turbo figured that he was there to force Turbo to stay in the game for another day.

"Oh, hey, Throttle," Turbo mumbled, "I'm just going down for something... Yeah. Down." He backed away, then saw that Throttle wasn't coming after him, or moving. Or talking. Turbo saw the door to Piston's room open, and he also saw Throttle step out, cocking his head at Turbo curiously.

"Oh, Throttle," Turbo tried to say a little louder, "I can't talk. I'm busy trying to get away from Throttle."

Wait...

"Throttle- the Throttle that was moving, looked around the hall. "Turbo, what are you talking about?" He asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Turbo, how many of me do you see?"

"Two. You, and another one right there." Turbo pointed to the middle of the hall.

"Turbo... You're hallucinating."

"Oh."

Turbo thought he saw Throttle glare at him. "Turbo, if this is a little scheme to get out of the game, I'll tell you now, it won't work."

Turbo had to admit that he didn't want Throttle or Piston to know about his insomnia, so he just went with Throttle's accusation.

"Yeah... This is a plot to leave the game," Turbo tried to get his voice above a murmur, and in a believable tone, "And since there is no way that I'll leave the game with you here, and I don't want to be suffocated again, I'll just stay now." Turbo on cue brushed past Throttle and into Piston's room.

"Okay..." Throttle muttered to himself uncertainty. He too went back into Piston's room, but still felt there was something off about Turbo. Probably preparations for the next day's Daring Escape. Throttle sighed. How was it that he had to be cursed with the most self-centred program in Creation as a brother? He didn't deserve it, and neither did Piston. Throttle tried to stop thinking about that, because he had more pressing matters to deal with. That thing on Piston's head needed attention.

_"THROTTLE!"_

Turbo screaming his name jolted Throttle out of his thoughts, and he whipped his head to where Turbo was standing, which was next to Piston's bed.

"What? What?" Throttle asked worriedly.

"Piston's unconscious!"

Throttle ran to Piston's bedside, to see that he was indeed unconscious again. He felt a chill overtake him, and saw that his hand was shaking.

"Jeez, Throttle, calm down," Turbo said in a deadpan.

"Calm down?"

"Yeah, calm down. Piston isn't getting any better with you stressing and hounding him with questions till he becomes unconscious!"

Turbo expected Throttle to flip out at him for being insensitive or something, but all he did was back up until he was leaning against the wall.

"I know Turbo, I'm just so concerned. Piston isn't just my brother, he's my twin. And I love him. I care about him."

Turbo was just standing there awestruck at Throttle, who had his head rolled back and his eyes were closed. Turbo thought that was sweet, though he would never admit it.

"Throttle, I think I've figured out how hard exactly this is for you. But, this isn't helping."

Throttle gave a small nod of affirmation and hung his head down.

"Turbo, you don't have to stay in the game today. If you want to leave, you can. You going to bolt out the plug now?"

As much as Turbo wanted to leave the game and disappear for the remainder of this 'vacation', something told him to do otherwise.

"...No."

* * *

Throttle and Turbo stood over Piston in a strange sense of déjà vu. Throttle was shaking a little, and Turbo was swaying slightly, trying to stay awake.

The doctors are not in the house.

Throttle was the first to take some sort of action. He pressed his hand on Piston's forehead. Throttle really didn't know why he did that, as there was obviously nothing wrong with his temperature. Maybe he just did it to be sure. Throttle made a face as he tried to look at Piston's injury without seeing too much of it.

"Ice would probably be good," Throttle decided.

"Yeah, ice," Turbo repeated.

"Can you go get some?"

"Fine."

Turbo returned a minute later with ice in his hands. Throttle took one look and asked Turbo,

"Why didn't you use a cup or something?"

Turbo stared at the ice in his hands like he just registered that it was there.

"I have no idea," he said simply. Throttle shook his head dismissively.

"Just put it on his head," Throttle said a little more harshly than he intended. Turbo nodded robotically and dumped the ice out of his hands. But,something was off: the ice didn't hit Piston's head, or Piston. The ice hit the floor. Throttle cocked his head at Turbo curiously.

"Turbo, what's gotten into you?"

Turbo stayed silent for a couple of seconds, then spoke.

"That thing in my code that gives me hand-eye coordination, gone."

"How do you know that?" Throttle asked suspiciously. Another pause.

"I can feel it."

Throttle shook his head at Turbo, then sadly exited the room. Turbo stared at the door, trying to remember his lies. He could feel... Hand eye coordination? And, the cake is a lie? Wait, what cake? Turbo tried hard to keep track of the lies, and which is which. The... Hallucinations were ice?

'What have I gotten myself into?' Turbo thought to himself, when he saw another hallucination. This one was a bit more unnerving than the last one, with this one being a distorted version of Turbo himself. The hallucination Turbo had inverted scheme colours, with a red helmet with a white T on it, instead of the regular scheme. It also had greyer skin, and looked droopier, and had an overall messier appearance than the regular Turbo.

"Wh- what are you?" Turbo asked the hallucination.

"_Don't you understand?_" The hallucination had a raspy voice._ "I'm you."_

"I don't know what you mean," Turbo answered back shakily. The hallucination chuckled.

_"Well, in a meta sense, I'm your conscience."_

"What's a conscience?" The hallucination seemed to find this hilarious, as it doubled over in raspy laughs at Turbo's expense. It composed itself and continued on with its raspy explanation.

_"You see, I'm your conscience. That little voice that tells right from wrong? I won't be surprised if you don't know me, you hardly ever use me, after all. Anyways, sometimes, a phenomena happens. I change appearance due to your emotions. And, the more guilty you are, the more distorted I become, like this," _it gestured to itself,_ "Until you are drowning in guilt you may or may not be aware of, I'll be so distorted you won't even know it's me."_

"Turbo!" Throttle called up, "who you talking to?"

"Ah, no one!" Turbo yelled back. The hallucination chuckled.

_"Until later__**, Turbo**_." The hallucination spat the name out like a curse,_ "until later." _With that, it disappeared into thin air. Turbo stood tensely and put a hand on his chest. His heart was trying to escape from its current station, which Turbo didn't understand. It was just a hallucination! Not real! At that moment, Throttle stepped back into Piston's room.

"Turbo, who were you talking to?" Throttle asked worriedly.

"No one, Throttle. Just go back downstairs and do whatever it was that you were doing." Throttle got a knowing look on his face.

"You were rehearsing."

"What?"

"Don't play clueless! You were rehearsing what- what to say to me, when you want to leave the game."

"I thought that I could leave the game in the morning."

"I was testing you, but you must have known it was a test. I-I can't believe you! You must be the only program in Creation this callous!" Turbo waved his hand in a dismissing manner.

"Oh, for Code's sake, arguing won't help the unconscious racer over there!" Turbo gestured over to Piston. Throttle stiffly nodded his head and dragged Turbo out of Piston's room with him.

* * *

A good twenty minutes later, more than a few mishaps with the ice, and a couple upchucks on Turbo's part, the remaining two racers managed to wrap Piston's head injury nicely. When that was done, Throttle stood over Piston, a mix of different emotions conveyed on his face. He turned towards Turbo.

"Turbo, I'm really worried."

"I know, you made that point clear."

Throttle drew in a shaky breath. "I want to be alone right now. I know you know where I'm going, but don't come after me. I really need to be alone. Oh, can you stay in the game? Just in case? I can't tell if anything's going on under the stands, and I need someone to just keep an eye on Piston."

Turbo grudgingly agreed. "Fine."

* * *

Turbo stayed there the whole day, watching Piston like a pixilated hawk. He didn't stir, or give any indication of regaining consciousness. Turbo was stoic the whole way through, not feeling anything in the least, not even the aforementioned guilt. He was relived when he heard the door open, then close. He heard Throttle trudge upstairs, and saw him when he opened the door to Piston's room. His eyes were puffy, and his breath was shaky.

"Were you crying?" Turbo asked Throttle, amused.

"I-" Throttle buried his face in his hands. He looked up after a second, though. He turned his eyes to Turbo.

"Turbo, could you-"

"No." With that, Turbo abruptly walked out of the room, and into his own. Throttle wanted Turbo to comfort him, at least a little. He did need it, after what he's been through, as pretty much the sole caretaker of Piston. Turbo forced himself to derail all trains of thought. It was making him confused. For the fourth night in a row, Turbo crawled into bed just for comfort, knowing full well he wouldn't sleep that night.

He hoped things would be at least a little better tomorrow.

* * *

_A/N: Huzzah! Turbo is finally guilty, guilty, guilty! Um, so not much happened during the night portion, now did it? I have a reason: a little angstier than the rest of the story. Might post it as a little side story. Should I?_


	6. Downhill

_A/N: Chapter six... Tiny little chapter, the first since the first two chapters that doesn't spawn a full day. Turbo's insomnia shall be..._

_SPOILERS! MUST STOP TYPING! _

* * *

Chapter six: Downhill

Throttle didn't sleep that night, due to worry. He had to treat Piston's injures and have him healed in five and a half days, because the arcade would open at noon the last day. Also, he had to stay two steps ahead of Turbo, whose only purpose was leaving the game. And to top it all off, he had to accomplish both without having ample knowledge for either! He wasn't a doctor, and there was no telling what Turbo would cook up next. He let out a sigh as he tried to figure out what to do. For the Turbo problem, don't let him out of his sight.

There, problem solved.

For the other problem, he had no idea what to do. He knew Fix-it Felix had a magic hammer that could fix anything, but Throttle didn't know him, or if the hammer healed injuries or not, and even if it did, what was he supposed to say? "Hi, I need your magic hammer so come to my game?" Not a chance. Throttle heard scuffling from Turbo's room, so he jumped up from the floor and bolted to Turbo's room. He saw Turbo preparing to crawl out of the window, which only led to air.

"Turbo!" Throttle yelled.

"Hm?"

"Why are you crawling out the window?!" Throttle exclaimed while simultaneously trying to pull Turbo back inside.

"I was what?"

"Crawling out the window," Throttle repeated. "You know you're on the second floor, without a roof under the window, so all you'll accomplish is breaking some bones, right?" Turbo nodded, and at this time, he was fully pulled in the house, and he flopped on Throttle like he was hammered.

"Turbo, get off me!" Throttle shouted exasperatingly while flinging Turbo off him. Turbo stumbled and caught on the wall with one arm, and Throttle realized there was something wrong with Turbo, after all, this couldn't be an act. No sane person would try to crawl out a high window as part of an act. Throttle wondered what exactly was wrong with him. He couldn't ask Turbo, he would just cook up another excuse. Throttle decided that he would keep Turbo next to him, as a hope that he wouldn't be thinking straight, and let it slip out.

"Turbo, come with me," Throttle ordered while pulling on Turbo's wrist. He didn't get a complaint out of Turbo, who just stumbled along. In the hall, Turbo used his free hand to poke Throttle.

"Uh, is he awake yet?" Turbo asked while flinging his arm to the wall, which Throttle assumed he meant Piston.

"No, he's still unconscious." He turned around to face Turbo, who was nodding his head, and Throttle noticed his eyes were just barely open. He made a mental note of that and continued on to Piston's room. A second after he stepped in the room, Turbo stumbled in, took one look at Piston, and started laughing weakly.

"What's so funny?" Throttle asked, mildly annoyed. Turbo pointed at Piston.

"He looks like a little blueberry!" Turbo crouched down on the floor and lay on it, so it gave the appearance that he was trying to make a wood angel, while Throttle looked on in disbelief, mouth slightly open.

"A liiiiiiitle bluuuueberrrry with sugaaaaaar on toooopp! Ahahaha..." Turbo singsonged out. Throttle had to admit, that was amusing to watch, but nevertheless there was something seriously wrong with Turbo. Throttle crouched down over Turbo and helped him up. Turbo was laughing like a madman, slouched over Throttle. He grabbed Turbo by the collar with one hand, and with the other, slapped Turbo back and forth across the face numerous times. Turbo showed no response, only flinging his own arm out, hitting Throttle in the cheek.

"I win!" Turbo yelled, then his legs went slack under him, and Throttle was forced to let go of his collar. Turbo was sprawled on the floor, but this time facedown. Throttle sighed and stepped around him, and towards Piston. He inspected Piston all over, trying to see if anything changed. Piston was slicked with sweat, and his breathing was choppy, like it hurt. Throttle knelt down, so he wouldn't be towering over Piston. He softly hit his cheek.

"Piston, wake up," Throttle pleaded. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Each 'wake up' was a harder slap. Throttle saw Turbo out the corner of his eye, near Piston's leg.

"Why you hitting there for? Hit the bad spot!" With that, Turbo started pounding on Piston's bad leg. Throttle saw that Piston had an expression of pain on his face.

"Stop it Turbo, you're hurting him!" Throttle yelled.

"I know!" Turbo yelled back. "Hurt him enough, he wakes up!"

Throttle lunged for Turbo and pulled him away from Piston, Turbo reaching for Piston's leg crazily.

"Turbo," Throttle said sternly, "this isn't helping. What in the world is wrong with you?" Turbo seemed to find that funny, as he started laughing and slumped over, sort of like a living ragdoll. Throttle sighed and dragged Turbo out in the hall, then returned to Piston's room. Turbo, meanwhile, decided that it would be best if he left the game. He knew his legs were pretty much defective, so he sort of crouched-walked, while dragging himself forward with his hands. It wasn't the fastest of solutions, but it _was_ the quietest.

* * *

After successfully leaving the house with the strange crouch-drag system, Turbo figured out that the five and a half days left in this vacation would be over before he reached the door. So, to save time, he just crouch-dragged himself behind the house.

'Throttle'll never find me here,' he thought, 'and maybe I can actually fall asleep.'

Meanwhile, Throttle was pacing back and forth in the house. He had tried everything to wake Piston up. He dumped water on him, he shook him violently, he even tried Turbo's idea! Nothing worked, and Throttle was getting desperate. He stopped his pacing for a second, then remembered something: when he went to the garage in a mad dash for a bucket, Turbo wasn't in the hall where Throttle put him. Throttle walked out of the room, wanting to see where Turbo was. He was probably getting worked up over nothing, but nevertheless allowed himself to. He peeked in Turbo's room, to find it empty, so he rushed outside to see if he was there. Throttle checked that spot under the stands, and every other spot in every other stand. No Turbo. Throttle decided to check Tapper, as that's where Turbo usually went.

* * *

"Throttle, why do you rush in here out of breath looking for Turbo so much?"

Tapper looked at Throttle, who was indeed out of breath from running all the way to the game.

"It's a long story," Throttle replied, "I just need Turbo in my game to help with a serious issue that is all his fault in the first place!"

Tapper listened to Throttle say all that quickly, leaned on the counter, and shook his head.

"Well, he hasn't been in here."

Throttle shoot his head nervously in thanks, and started backing to the train out of Tapper.

"Throttle," Tapper called, "can you tell me what..."

But, the bartender never got to finish the sentence, as Throttle bolted out of the plug before he could.

* * *

Meanwhile, Turbo was lying face up on the ground behind the house, in absolute misery. He hasn't slept in four days, and the hallucinations were... Unnerving, to say the least. He hasn't had any today, thankfully, but his distorted self from yesterday was just... How could his psyche think up of something like that?! Turbo decided to roll over and let himself go limp for the next hour, when,

_"Turbo..."_

Oh, great. His distorted self was back. It was even more distorted than before, now with even more greyer skin, and droopier too.

_"I said I would come back, and here I am."_

"What do you want?" Turbo asked irritably.

_"I just want to show you something," _The hallucination chuckled out.

"Show me, then. What's the worst that it could be?"

The hallucination laughed that raspy laugh it had as it seemed to encircle Turbo.

_"Now, go limp and let your psyche do its thing..."_

* * *

_Turbo was lying in a bed, face up. Most of him was in pain, and bad pain at that. He tried to move his arm, only to see it wrapped in some sort of... Turbo didn't know what. He turned his head to the side, to see Throttle saying something to himself, but the distorted version of himself. His hearing was also warped, but he could hear Throttle and his other self arguing. He remembered this as the day that Throttle found out that it was Turbo's fault that Piston was in that crash. His hearing was too warped to discern actual words, but he realized what his psyche was doing._

_He was in Piston's place._

_Turbo rolled his head back in this fantasy, hoping it would end soon. It hurt all over, and the other two racers were supposed to be helping him, but the one who cares is being sidetracked by Turbo, or his distorted self._

_Make it stop. Turbo needed this to stop. He understood, just he wanted to be released from this fantasy._

* * *

Turbo- the _real_ Turbo, that is, sat up after that nightmare- ish experience. He wondered how he could feel everything, when it wasn't really him in the crash. Eh, probably some psycho mumbo-jumbo. He sat rigid when he heard Throttle calling his name angrily; apparently he rolled over in open view. Throttle was next to Turbo in a flash, pulling him off the ground.

"Turbo, I don't believe you. It seemed your main objective is to leave the game! Don't you have a sense of compassion?"

Turbo flopped around like a rag doll, but he was giving a speech to himself on the inside.

_'Turbo, don't let them know you care. Play it cool, just play it cool.'_

Throttle and Turbo were walking upstairs now, and the more Throttle chewed him out, the harder Turbo found it to keep quiet.

'_Play it cool. Play it cool.'_

Once the two were in the middle of the hallway, Turbo had to let something out, but the end result wasn't what he expected at all. He pushed himself off a now shocked Throttle and faced him, scowling.

"Don't you get it?" Turbo's voice was rising with every word, "did it really take you five days to figure it out?" Turbo jammed his finger in Throttle's face.

"I DON'T _CARE __**WHAT HAPPENS TO PISTON!"**_

Right after Turbo yelled that statement, both racers heard a voice that caused Throttle to put his hand up to his mouth in sympathy, and Turbo to lower his arm in some unidentifiable emotion.

"You _don't_?"

* * *

_A/N: Ahaha, Turbo's gone loopy in da head. Funny!_

_... But what he said... Less funny. And Piston was awake at that moment... Much less funny._

_And yeah, I went all psycho-crazy on you. Show of hands, who was expecting this? Anyone? Someone? No one?_

_And no, I have no idea what the blueberry thing was about. Just something that popped in my head._


	7. Up

_A/N: Gaaah! Darn laptop ate my chapter! Trust me, this would have been up WAAAAY earlier if it wasn't for that. This is coming from a hotel in I'm-not-telling-you-where-until-I-get-back, so I worked on this super fast __**here**__ to get it done. Oh, the third person focusing on Turbo parts include hallucinations, so if it makes NO SENSE, either Turbo's hallucinating/acting crazy, or I stink. I hope it's the former._

Chapter seven: Up

Throttle slowly stepped in Piston's room, leaving Turbo standing in the hall. He angrily stormed into his own room loudly, putting on a show of noise for the twins, but as soon as he was in his room, he flung his helmet off and scrambled to the wall to hear the conversation. He heard Throttle first.

"Piston, how long were you awake?"

"Ten minutes."

"Are you okay?" Turbo wasn't sure if he meant physically or emotionally.

"I'm fine. I just... I want to be left alone."

"Piston, I'm sorry."

"Why? None of this is your fault."

"It _is_ Turbo's fault, though, and I'm positive that he won't feel any remorse in this lifetime." Turbo himself felt a pang of guilt at Throttle's statement, but hoisted himself on his bed, because he was tired of standing, and pressed his ear up against the wall to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Throttle, did Turbo really mean that?"

"I'm not sure. You can ask him yourself if you want to know so bad. Just remember, he's a spur-of-the-moment guy; he doesn't really think. So, I don't think he meant it."

"Why would he say it if he didn't mean it?"

Silence. Turbo heard Throttle sigh. "I'm really not sure. I don't speak Turbeese."

"Throttle, I guess, I'm tired. I should be, you know, the thing..."

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah, that."

Turbo heard a door close, which he assumed was Throttle leaving Piston's room. Turbo knocked on the wall to get Piston's attention.

"Piston! I know you're there!"

"What?"

Turbo froze. Honestly, he thought he'd spend all that time persuading Piston to answer, and would never get to the 'remorse' part.

"Turbo, did you really mean what you said?"

"I, uh, I didn't not mean it, and it wasn't not true."

There was a pause after that, which Turbo figured was Piston running the double negatives in his head.

"You meant it!" Piston cried out sadly.

"Yes I did!" Right after he said that, Turbo clamped his hand over his mouth. Did he say that?!

"Piston, I-"

"Leave me alone."

"But-"

"I said leave me alone. Don't you have to sleep or something?"

"Yeah," Turbo answered. 'But I'm not going to,' he thought.

End of discussion.

Turbo flopped down on his bed, facing the ceiling. Out of curiosity, he pressed his ear up against the wall, to hear what was going on. He heard faint noises that sounded like crying. He pulled away from the wall, and realized that what he said cut Piston deep. He tried to figure out how to backtrack without making it look like he cared at all. Turbo spent the whole night thinking about that, with nothing.

Oh well, he always did better under stress anyways.

* * *

Morning rolled around in the arcade, beginning the sixth day of torture, and each of the TurboTime racers had their own plans. Turbo planned to leave the game and get completely hammered in Tapper, because that's the only way he could be detached from reality for awhile; Throttle planned to force Turbo to spill what was up with him, because he wouldn't give it up on his own, and Piston seemed fine, so he could be left alone for a little while. Speaking of him, he wanted either Throttle or Turbo to knock him unconscious for the remainder of the time the arcade would be closed, because it wasn't exactly his definition of 'fun' to be bedridden with injuries.

Piston groaned when he heard knocking on his wall. He knew it was Turbo trying to get his attention. For what, he didn't know. He decided not to answer him. There was a short pause, then louder knocking.

"Piston! Answer!" Turbo yelled. Piston turned his head towards the wall and hoped he would stop knocking. Unfortunately for him, Turbo continued knocking on the wall and shouted louder.

"Piston! Answer me! I know you're there; where else could you be?!"

Piston himself heard someone storming into Turbo's room, which must have been Throttle. He heard some things crashing around, and Throttle yelling things he didn't want to repeat... Or even think about. He decided not to regard Turbo, after all, he didn't care.

Right?

* * *

A few minutes after Throttle came storming in his room, Turbo got his thoughts vaguely coherent again, but by that time, he'd forgotten half of his thoughts. He got up and raked his hand across his face, and judging by the fact that it stung afterwards, must've left a mark. Turbo knew that Throttle was trying to figure out what was wrong with him, and for a split second, considered telling him about his insomnia. Turbo immediately smacked himself hard after thinking that, and collapsed. He brought a hand up to his head, and found that he wasn't wearing his helmet, which he considered suspicious to the twins. He looked around for it, but he didn't find it. He glanced over to the side of his bed, to see a giant coconut sitting on the floor.

It would have to do.

* * *

Turbo stumbled out into the hall, his brain acting on autopilot. A clumsy autopilot, but one nonetheless. He saw Throttle in the hall, and headed towards him.

"Heeey Throttle!" He greeted, "you like my coconut?" He asked while pointing to his head. Throttle stared at him.

"What coconut?"

Turbo scoffed. "The one on my head, silly! I lost my helmet, and I found a giant coconut and I used that instead!"

"You still have your helmet on," Throttle informed the delusional Turbo, who clung to him and leaned on him contently. Throttle tried to shrug Turbo off him, with some success; he still clung to him as Throttle trudged to Piston's room slowly. When he reached his destination and threw the door open, he was exasperated at Turbo, and he flung the racer in question off him and onto the floor. Turbo landed facedown, and hoisted himself up after a moment.

"What happened to him?" Piston asked Throttle, referring to Turbo. Throttle looked down at Turbo, who was licking air.

"I don't know," he answered Piston. Then he addressed Turbo. "What are you doing now?"

Turbo pointed to the air. "Ice cream," he not-explained before continuing to lick his floating cone. Throttle rolled his eyes and hoisted Turbo up on him. Piston was staring at Turbo, and glanced at Throttle.

"Why does he look like that?" He asked Throttle, referring to Turbo.

"What does he mean?" Turbo asked Throttle.

"Come with me."

* * *

Throttle steered Turbo into the washroom and faced him towards the mirror. Turbo showed no response because his eyes were perpetually closed nowadays, so Throttle pried one of them open in a way that wouldn't hurt him, and when Turbo saw what he looked like, both eyes snapped open. His eyes were sunken in- well, more sunken in, and instead of a dark grey around them, it was almost jet black, and his eyes themselves were bloodshot and puffy. Throttle turned him so they faced each other, and he held onto Turbo firmly.

"Turbo," Throttle asked him, "what's wrong with you? You're acting strange, and I know something's up."

"Nothing's wrong with me," Turbo muttered.

"Yes, there is something wrong with you! Why won't you tell me?" Throttle was beginning to get frustrated at Turbo, who offered no response. Throttle steered him out in the hall and leaned him against the wall.

"Turbo," Throttle pleaded, "please tell me what's wrong with you. I mean, look at you! Just tell me what's wrong, and I won't bother you anymore."

Turbo shook his head, and Throttle unconsciously gripped Turbo's shoulders harder, with Turbo flinging his arms out in an attempt to get Throttle to let go of his shoulders.

"Let go!" He cried while trying to tug at Throttle's arms, then gave up and collapsed. Turbo didn't know why he let himself fall on the ground when it was clearly covered in worms, but his legs failed.

"Throttle," Turbo muttered, "get up on a table or something. How did all these worms get in here in the first place?" He heard Throttle facepalm, so the worms' entry point must have been obvious. The only thing he could think of was the gaping hole in the ceiling.

"From there?" Turbo asked while pointing to the ceiling. He felt Throttle's hand on his shoulder, so he looked up and tried to open his eyes more.

"Lemme out," Turbo slurred, with Throttle now giving him the mother of all death glares, interpreting that Turbo meant out of the game.

"Are you saying that I'm going out of my head worried about you... And it was just an ACT?!"

"You think I can fake this?" Turbo retorted, loosely gesturing to his sunken in appearance. Throttle deflated a little, but let go of Turbo, who tried to move towards the general direction of the door, but gave up after two seconds of trying. Throttle took pity on him, and tried to worm under Turbo to hoist him up. He could feel Turbo trembling slightly and heard him muttering something under his breath, too soft for him to hear. Throttle tried to ask Turbo one more time what was wrong with him, with no success.

"What's wrong with me's that I'm not outside!" Turbo yelled (in reality talked normally) at Throttle, who tried to walk him to the front door.

"Turbo, you have to use your legs," Throttle complained to Turbo, who didn't give any indentation of hearing him. The two soon reached the steps, and Throttle tried to get Turbo down the steps. He inched Turbo, who was now in Ragdoll Mode, down one step, and Turbo fell face first down the stairs, dragging Throttle along with him. At he bottom, both of them picked themselves up, and Throttle saw Turbo crouch-dragging himself to the door. Throttle opened the door, and hoisted Turbo on his shoulders. They both moved closer to the door- well,Throttle was guiding Turbo there, with Turbo himself leaning on Throttle. They soon reached the stands, and Throttle propped Turbo up on the side of one, and walked back into the house. Turbo thought he could feel someone staring at him from behind, and he slowly turned around to see about five or six pineapples staring at him. Turbo didn't question this hallucination; he learned not to. The pineapples were wearing pants and had glasses, and they had arms and legs too. They were murmuring amongst themselves about something now, and then they stared at him again.

_"What are you doing out here?"_ One of them asked Turbo. This one had the longest leaves and thicker glasses, so Turbo guessed he was the leader.

"Nothing," Turbo answered back, unsure why he was conversing with hallucinations.

_"Then why are you out here?"_

"Why am I hallucinating pineapples?" Turbo wondered aloud.

_"Do you want the Evil You?"_ The head pineapple sarcastically asked.

"No, pineapples are fine. What are you doing here?"

The pineapples snickered amongst themselves, then turned back to Turbo.

_"You're guilty,"_ the head pineapple stated.

"No," Turbo defended himself, "I don't feel guilt. Never have, never will."

Head Pineapple crossed his arms and glared at Turbo.

_"There's some sort of pit in you? And, it won't go away?"_

"Yeah?"

_"That's guilt."_

Turbo closed his eyes completely. "I hate guilt," he commented.

The head pineapple laughed. _"Who doesn't? But, we know how to make it go away. We also know you're so guilty, that it's giving you insomnia."_

Turbo stared at his hallucination out of half-opened eyes, dumbfounded.

"You were saying? About stopping it?"

The head pineapple rolled his eyes._ "Swallow your pride for once, and make amends with Piston."_

"Do what now?"

The head pineapple facepalmed. _"Say you're sorry."_

Turbo's eyes widened to about three-fourths of the way open, and he started to protest.

"Nononononononono. No. Not happening. I've never said that before, and I'm not starting now. Not after something as insignificant as-"

_"Insignificant?"_ The head pineapple interrupted. _"Insignificant?! You brother's bedridden with near-death injuries, all because of you!"_

Turbo dropped his eyes to the ground. "He's not my brother."

_"Not in the code, but he considers you his brother, and don't deny it, you consider him one too!"_

Turbo grit his teeth together in frustration. This was why it was futile to argue with your hallucinations. They _will_ win, no flex on that one. Turbo tried to pick himself up to go in the house, but his legs wouldn't work after five days of no sleep, so he just crouch-dragged himself towards the house. Before he got too far, he heard the head pineapple talking to one of the others.

_"See?" _He was saying,_ "I told you: the 'brother' card never fails. You owe me a dollar."_

* * *

Once Turbo got upstairs, his legs were able to support himself again, which was just as well. His arms were tired with all the crouch-dragging. He slowly went into Piston's room, more than a little nervous.

"Piston?" He asked tentatively.

Piston turned his head to face Turbo, wincing as he did so.

"What do you want?" He asked sadly.

Turbo wrung his hands together and walked closer to Piston.

"About the double negatives before, I was trying to say that I didn't mean what I said before. I don't really understand the world of double negatives."

"Then how come you said you meant it?" Piston asked, confused.

"I wasn't thinking. I tried to take it back, but you wouldn't let me."

Piston offered a small smile to Turbo, who noticed something wrong with the picture, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged it off, and noticed the pit was a little less noticeable. A little.

In Turbo's book, things were looking up.

* * *

_A/N: Okay... writing out Turbo's hallucinations was HILARIOUS! Special thanks to my friend, who thought up the 'sentient pineapples' hallucination; though I thought of what they did. I hope you liked this chapter... I had writers block that was hard to get over. R-E-V-I-E-W... So I know I didn't make a terrible mistake working on this over my break. Plus I like getting them :) _


	8. Corruption

A/N: Well, I certainly took my time with this! Hope this chapter's worth the wait.

* * *

Chapter eight: Corruption

Throttle woke up in a dark space, doubled over. He wondered for a second how he got there, and then remembered: he thought he'd have a nervous breakdown, and hightailed it under the stands so Turbo and Piston wouldn't see him like that. Speaking of Turbo, he still had to figure out what was wrong with him, so he could stop worrying about him already. He crawled out from under the stands and headed towards the house. When he entered, it was quiet, and even though he was used to quiet, it unnerved him. He headed up to Turbo's room, and his hand was shaking as he turned the knob. Throttle stepped in the room, and saw Turbo in the corner. His helmet was rolled in a corner, and Turbo himself was coiled up in a ball. Throttle walked closer to him, and when he got close enough, could see that Turbo was muttering something, and he looked... Well, Throttle couldn't put his finger on it, but he thought that he looked like a cross between scared and annoyed. Throttle thought he was sleeping, and when he went to shake him awake, found that he radiated heat. He shook Turbo, who just bunched up in a ball even more.

"Turbo, wake up," Throttle pleaded.

"I am up," Turbo muttered, "I wasn't asleep."

"Oh. Well, what's wrong? Why are you bunched up in the corner?"

Turbo didn't respond, just unfurled from his ball about halfway and tried to look at Throttle, with his eyes now completely closed instead of slits like the previous days.

"Why are you bunched up in the corner?" Throttle repeated. Turbo tried to muster up all his available strength to completely unfurl and look at Throttle, with success, but all of him was aching now. Turbo felt like something was smothering him, but couldn't tell what. His eyes were closed again, and they were staying like that until Turbo saw fit, no pun intended. He had this feeling like he was moving, then falling, then moving again. After that feeling, Turbo felt grass between his fingers, and came to the conclusion that he was outside. He heard someone struggling next to him, and the next thing he knew, he was doused with freezing cold water. He jerkily flung himself back and snapped his eyes open, at least for a few seconds, and what he saw was Throttle standing over his previous station with a bucket in his hands. Throttle deflated when Turbo slumped on the ground, and decided not to bother with him, at least for today.

* * *

As he was walking upstairs in the house, Throttle began to worry. There was only one of him, and two programs with problems he had to take care of! He wasn't sure how he could pull it off, especially with a time limit.

"Throttle?"

The racer in question was snapped out of his thoughts by Piston calling his name. He turned his head to Piston, who seemed nervous.

"Throttle... The arcade opens again in three and a half days," he said, subtly getting his point across. Throttle walked over to Piston's side and knelt down so they were at eye level.

"I know," Throttle replied. He saw that Piston seemed to be thinking about something, and wondered what.

"Throttle, could you unwrap one of those things you put on me a few days ago? It feels strange."

Throttle complied, and slowly unwrapped Piston's left hand, which was almost crushed to the point of no hope.

"Holy... What is this?" He muttered in awe when he saw what happened to Piston's hand over the week. Where there was a broken bone, his hand was only light blue pixels. The default color for a character's healthy code was a medium blue, which meant Piston's code was weak. It wasn't a far-fetched theory if he guessed the same thing was happening everywhere Piston had a broken or dislocated bone.

"I can't feel my fingers," Piston said worriedly.

"Try moving them," Throttle suggested, keeping his eyes trained on Piston's hand.

"You trying?" Throttle asked after a few seconds of watching.

"Yes, I'm trying! It isn't working, is it?" Piston said, his voice dropping to a whisper at the end of that statement.

"No."

"What's going on?"

Throttle sighed. "I don't know. Turbo's the code guy."

"Throttle," Piston said, a few notches above a whisper, "this may seem childish... But I'm scared."

Throttle wormed his hand into Piston's good hand, and gave it a squeeze. "It's not childish," he reassured him, "anyone in your position would feel the same way."

"This game's going to be unplugged when the players see that I'm not there. We'll be homeless..." Piston trailed off.

"Piston, Piston, listen to me," Throttle said, "that's not going to happen. I'll fix this. You'll be okay, you hear me? I promise."

He gave Piston's hand a final squeeze and immediately ran into the hall, wondering why he promised the impossible.

* * *

Meanwhile, Turbo managed to get into the garage, just to get out of the 24-hour sun. He caught his breath in the middle of the building, when he felt someone tapping him, or rather, trying to. He opened his eyes to slits and turned around, to see a perfect replica of himself staring back.

_'Oh no, not now,' _Turbo thought. The replica backed away and vanished into thin air. Turbo backed away from the spot, and as he was doing so, fell down backwards. He opened his eyes to bigger slits, trying to register what happened as the replica appeared again, walking towards Turbo, who scooted away until he hit the wall, having ended up in the corner. The replica continued walking towards him, now with an army of replicas walking with it. They stopped when Turbo was surrounded, and the replicas parted to let a figure through, whom Turbo recognized as the distorted version of him. He wished he didn't back himself up into the corner, so he could run away. As the hallucination moved closer, Turbo could see that it looked much worse than before. Its skin was a sickly dark grey, the hue of what was normally around Turbo's eyes. Speaking of which, circling the hallucination's eyes was a jet black, and its eyes were so bloodshot that they looked completely red. It was hunched over, its clothes were in tatters, and parts of it were nothing but red binary. As it stormed closer, Turbo was becoming more and more uneasy, until he came face-to-face with his hallucination.

_"Look what you did!"_ It yelled at Turbo, who was petrified by now. It tried to grab Turbo's collar, but it couldn't, so instead it angrily glared at Turbo and moved its face closer.

_"Fix this,"_ it demanded. _"Fix this or SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!"_

Turbo tried to inch back into his corner, wondering again why he was so afraid of a hallucination, and hoping no one would see him like this.

* * *

Much later, Throttle walked out of the house, uneasy. He spent the last hour and a half with Piston, trying to figure out how he was supposed to go about healing Piston before the arcade opened in a few days. He stopped in his tracks when he felt like something was wrong. It finally hit him: Turbo was missing. Throttle heard noises from the garage, and went to investigate.

* * *

When Throttle entered the garage, he saw Turbo bunched up in the corner, eyes wide open at something in front of him. He was muttering something under his breath, and Throttle suspected he was shouting it earlier. Throttle ran over to Turbo, who immediately directed his stare to him. Throttle got a serious expression on his face and knelt down to Turbo's level.

"Turbo, this is the last time I'll ask you. What is wrong with you?"

Turbo tried to avoid Throttle's glare, but it was reminding him of his hallucination.

'You know what?', Turbo thought, 'forget it.'

"I haven't slept in a week," Turbo reluctantly told Throttle, who looked confused and relived.

"Turbo, why didn't you tell me sooner?" He inquired while letting Turbo lean on him.

"It seemed weak," Turbo muttered, letting himself go limp on Throttle.

"Why were you bunched up in the corner just now?" Throttle asked.

"I see things."

"What kind of things?"

Throttle didn't get an answer. Turbo just clung to him and whimpered. Throttle saw the state Turbo was in, and roped his arm around him.

"Turbo," Throttle started to ask, "do you know why you can't sleep?"

Turbo, as much as he wanted this to end, didn't want Throttle to know. "Nnnnnnno," he uncertainly answered. Throttle gripped his shoulders and turned him so they faced each other.

"Turbo, I know you're lying. Tell me right now," he demanded.

"No."

Throttle released his grip on Turbo and stared at him. "And why exactly do you not want to tell me?"

Turbo lowered his head. "It's embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than being a living ragdoll?"

"Yep."

Throttle thought up the perfect way to get Turbo to talk.

"Turbo, I swear, if you don't tell me why you aren't sleeping, I'll drag you into Tapper, get you completely hammered, and you can tell everyone there about your coconuts and ice creams and whatever that crazy little mind thinks of next."

Turbo put a cocky smile on, or something close to that, and scoffed. "You're bluffing."

"Name one time I ever joked about something this serious."

Turbo was worried as the fact sank in, that Throttle never joked, about anything.

"Fine. You win," he said, "it's becauseI'mguilty"

"Slower than that, Turbo."

"Because I'm guilty! There, I said it! Now have you heard about anyone getting insomnia because they were guilty?"

Throttle stared into space for a minute as he comprehended what Turbo just said.

"But, Turbo, I thought you didn't care. You said that. I heard you! In fact, you screamed it in my face!"

"Didn't... Want you... To know," Turbo tried to explain, with breaks due to fatigue. Throttle thought that Turbo had a messed-up sense of judgment, but he had other problems. He roped his arm around Turbo again and let him lean on him, even though Turbo was crushing Throttle. Turbo slumped on Throttle even more and thought for a few minutes. Throttle waited for Turbo to say something, or do something at the very least.

"Don't tell Piston," Turbo suddenly said.

"What?"

"Don't tell him... I have... insomnia."

Throttle nodded, even though he knew Turbo'd never see. "I won't tell him, alright? Just, I need you to do one thing for me: I need you to tell me everything you know about insomnia. Swallow your pride and tell me everything."

Turbo nodded a little and thought some more.

"The pineapples... Said something... About making... Amends," Turbo managed to say. Throttle raised an eyebrow at Turbo.

"The what? And amends? You?"

Turbo nodded.

"I don't believe this," Throttle muttered to himself, then an idea dawned on him.

"Turbo," he began, "there's something wrong with Piston, something with his code. I don't know what, but if you can figure it out, and fix it, maybe you won't be guilty anymore, and your insomnia'll get cured!"

Turbo sat up and got a thoughtful look on his face. "That just might work," he muttered.

"What, um, what happened to the..." Turbo muttered while trying to remember the right words.

"Piston's code?" Throttle cut him off, and Turbo nodded.

"Wherever he has injuries, it's dispelled into pixels. And they're a lighter blue than normal," Throttle explained. Turbo thought for awhile, and after ten minutes, his face twisted into an expression of sadness, fear, and nausea.

"No..." He mumbled, "no, no, _no, no, __**NO!**__"_

Throttle was surprised. This was the first time in many days he heard Turbo's voice get louder than a mutter. He was truly shouting, like he did when he wasn't loopy from fatigue.

"Turbo," Throttle asked, his voice laced with fear, "what's happening?"

"He... His code, the injuries... His code thinks the injuries are corruptions, so it's deleting them, making the code on the edges of the first 'corruption' being deemed as corruptive, so it'll delete _them_ too, and the cycle goes on!"

Throttle had a good idea what that meant, and hoped that Turbo could prove him wrong.

"So, that means..." Throttle trailed off, expecting reassurance that everything was fine, it was just a simple patch job, technicalities make everything seem like a big deal, but nothing like that came, but in retrospect, Throttle should have known it was urgent when Turbo didn't pause or anything.

"Throttle, if this isn't fixed soon-"

"Stop," Throttle interrupted, "I know what'll happen. I don't want to hear it, _please._"

Turbo hung his head, and whispered out the last part of the sentence.

"... He'll die."


	9. Forgiven

Chapter nine: Forgiven

Throttle didn't know what to do. His brother was dying, and the only person that knew how to save him was delirious. Half the day was gone already, so that left three days to fix Turbo, have him fix Piston _if he could,_ heal the original injuries, unless Turbo could fix those in the code as well, and get Piston's legs strong again, because after a week of no use, no one expects them to be as strong as before. Throttle considered trying to fix Piston's code himself, but he didn't know squat about the code, and would most likely make matters worse. Another idea dawned on him. Maybe Turbo could tether Throttle while he was in the code room, and could yell out instructions. Throttle shook his head. That would never work. It was a challenge for Turbo to remember even the simplest of things, and who knows? He might mess up and give him the wrong instructions. Throttle looked at Turbo, who was curled up in the corner again, muttering something nonstop; it was too quiet for Throttle to hear what, but he suspected it had something to do with Piston. Throttle sighed. If only Turbo didn't have insomnia...

Throttle sat up bolt upright as yet another idea came to him. Maybe he could tie the rope to his kart, bring Turbo in the code room, and cure his insomnia. He remembered that Turbo once told him that every problem in a program can be fixed with enough code work.

"Turbo," Throttle prodded Turbo's shoulder to get his attention, "I have an idea."

* * *

It was easier to move Turbo around than Throttle originally thought. He first assumed he would be transporting deadweight, but Turbo summoned all his strength to move on his own, for Piston's sake. Throttle tightly knotted the two lengths of rope to the steering wheel of his kart, which was parked ax close as possible to the entrance of the code room, and tied the other side of one around Turbo, and the second around himself. Of course, this was after he got the _location_ of the code room out of Turbo. Turns out there was a secret door, which was the back of the 1st place podium. There was a flight of steps that led down to the code vault, which was convenient for the rope, but once Throttle reached the door, he realized that he didn't know the password.

"Turbo, what's the password?" Throttle asked.

"What password?"

"The one for the code vault."

"Oh." Turbo tried to reach in his pocket, but only resulted in flopping his hand around uselessly. Throttle saw, and reached in his pocket. He brought out a napkin from Tapper with the password scrawled on it. Throttle punched it in, wondering why Turbo, who can remember many complicated things about the code, couldn't remember a simple password. He figured it was for the better, though, without that napkin, he would never have guessed the password. Throttle punched it in, and the door slid open. He wasn't sure what to expect when he was going to see the code room, so he stared open-mouthed at the mass of wires and code boxes. Turbo, who was leaning on Throttle, steadied himself on his own legs and shook Throttle out of his trance.

"Hello? Piston? Dying?" Turbo reminded, and pushed Throttle in. Alright, his legs gave again and since he was holding on to Throttle, they both fell into the abyss. Throttle, after getting over the shock of being pushed in, began to make his way towards the code boxes, which proved to be hard, with pulling Turbo along, although he was doing his best to move with as little assistance as possible. Finally, Throttle located Turbo's code box, and pulled the actual Turbo up to eye level. He peered at the box, and seemed confused when he read the name.

"Throttle... This is... _My_ box," Turbo muttered.

"Yeah, we're here to try and cure you, so you can cure Piston. I explained it to you before we came in here, remember?"

"What?"

Throttle facepalmed. Talk about short-term memory.

"Turbo, now what?" Throttle asked.

"Two taps."

Throttle nodded, and tapped the box twice. It opened up, and Throttle could see all the little things that made Turbo, well, Turbo. He noticed something sparking in the back of the box, and gingerly moved some of the icons out of the way, making sure not to break the wires. He saw what was sparking: one of the icon boxes, a purple one, was disconnected from its wire. A red box situated next to it was shaking, and whenever the purple box floated near it, the red box would bump it away, and Throttle had a good idea how it got disconnected in the first place. He glanced at Turbo, who was loosely holding his left arm, and back to the disconnected icon. This couldn't be what he was looking for. It couldn't be that easy! Throttle decided to reattach the box anyways, and the second he did, he felt something slip from his arm. He snapped his head where Turbo was supposed to be, to find that he had slipped, like he suspected. Turbo now was trying hard to reach the exit, and Throttle made his way toward him as fast as he could, which was hard to do in zero gravity. They both were near the exit, but since Throttle got the hang of moving in the code room, he reached the hall first, and pulled Turbo in after him. He saw Turbo was stumbling more than he was before they went in the code room, and he wondered if it had to do with the box he reattached. Maybe it was disconnected for a reason, but he couldn't turn back now. He helped Turbo up the stairs, and once they reached daylight, Turbo collapsed, to Throttle's alarm.

"Turbo?" Throttle shook his arm, and Turbo glared at him the best he could without opening his eyes, and lowered his head again. Throttle smiled for the first time in days, as he realized that curing insomnia was easier than he thought, at least in this case. But that red box, if it jitters so much that it knocks the purple box off its wires again, well, it wouldn't be much of a problem, Throttle could just reattach it again, but what if no one noticed until it was too late? Throttle shook his head and made his way back to the house. Turbo should wake up feeling normal in about three or four hours, so Throttle had to wait until then to get started on the code work.

* * *

Approximately four and a half hours later, Turbo stirred. He blinked a few times, trying to remember what happened before he fell asleep. He knew it was something important...

Turbo stood up shakily, steadying himself on his legs. He still had no clue what he was supposed to be doing. Maybe Throttle could tell him, if it was important, than Throttle would know about it. Turbo made his way towards the house, walking normally for the first time in about a week.

* * *

"Hello? Throttle?" Turbo called. Upon entering the house, he didn't see Throttle immediately, so he simply called out for him. Some nagging feeling told him that he would be here. Turbo was proven right when Throttle burst out of a door with such force he slammed into the wall across him.

"Turbo!" He yelled, "come up here, _quick!"_

Turbo ran up the stairs, as he remembered what happened over the course of the week. Piston got in a crash, he himself got insomnia, Piston had a code problem, and his own insomnia must've gotten cured, explaining his waking up on the grass.

Turbo burst in Piston's room, and walked over to where Throttle was standing; right next to Piston. He pushed Throttle to the side slightly, and his eyes widened when he saw what happened to Piston in half a day. He was extremely pale, everywhere he had a major injury was completely dispelled into pixels, the pixels themselves were unnaturally pale, and Piston looked like he had trouble breathing to boot. At this rate, there was less time to fix his code than either Throttle or Turbo originally thought.

"Turbo," Throttle began, with poorly-concealed fear in his voice, "is he..."

"No, he's not dying," Turbo reassured. "He might fall unconscious, though, and a program's code is weaker if they're asleep or unconscious," Turbo explained.

"Tur... Bo..." Piston painstakingly rasped out, and the racer in question immediately trained his eyes on Piston.

"Piston, try to stay awake, okay?" Turbo pleaded desperately.

"Can't... Hurts..." Piston rasped, now struggling to stay conscious.

"Piston," Turbo said, eyes wide, "I'm _so_ sorry. I've never actually said those words out loud to _anyone_ before, but I'm sorry."

"I... Know... You're... Guilty..." Piston began. It was clear he wanted to say something to Turbo before he inevitably fell unconscious, giving Turbo and Throttle even less time to work with.

"I... Have... To... Say..." Piston paused for a few large breaths that didn't come easy.

"Turbo... I... For... Give... You..."

Turbo gaped at Piston, before turning to Throttle.

"Did you hear what he said?" He asked, awestruck.

"Yeah, I did," Throttle answered. He then turned to Piston, who was clearly going to slip away any second now.

"Piston," he reassured, "me and Turbo, we'll fix your code, and everything will be fine, alright?"

Piston nodded ever-so-slightly, but Throttle caught it anyway.

"Okay..." Was all he said, before falling unconscious for the third time this week. Throttle gave Piston's good hand a few pats, then turned to Turbo, who was still awestruck at Piston's comment.

"Throttle... He forgives me. After what I did to him, he still forgives me."

Throttle noticed that Turbo's voice was starting to crack, so he pulled him in for a hug.

"Throttle," Turbo continued, "Piston doesn't _deserve_ this. He could be out enjoying the week and a half off, but instead he's bedridden with injuries I'm not even sure I can fix! And it's all my fault! If only I listened to him..."

Throttle gave him a few pats on the back, but was thoroughly surprised when he felt Turbo shaking, and a few seconds after that, soft sobbing. Turbo never cried before now, and it alarmed Throttle. But, when you're responsible for your brother's near-death_ that might become an actual death_, then this would be the expected response. After a few minutes, Turbo pulled away so the twosome faced each other, his face stained with tears.

"Throttle," he sobbed, distraught, "what've I _done?" _

* * *

_A/N: So that's what's wrong with Turbo! A code problem! Yeah, I know the, ahem, pineapples (heh) back in chapter seven said something about making amends, but remember, they're Turbo's hallucinations. It's what he thought would cure him, not what would actually cure him. On a completely unrelated note, today coincidentally happens to be my thirteenth birthday. Huzzah. ^-^_


	10. Codework

Chapter ten: Codework

"Turbo?"

"What?"

"Are you alright... After what happened in the house?"

"I'm fine. Now stop asking."

Turbo was making his way towards the code room, with Throttle in tow. It was only a few minutes after Turbo's breakdown, and Throttle was understandably concerned. They were in the middle of their fourth year of being plugged in, and this was the first time Throttle ever saw Turbo cry. He forced himself to concentrate on the bigger problem, even though he was only going to hold the rope that tethered Turbo while he was in the code room, and nothing snapped himself out of thought to see that they were already at the podium, so he walked over to his kart, which was still parked there, and untied one of the lengths of rope from it, while Turbo tied the other end to himself. The twosome walked down the stairs, and Throttle punched in the password; he'd committed it to memory. Turbo jumped in and made his way towards the code boxes, while Throttle sat down just before the entrance.

* * *

Turbo floated amongst the many code boxes in TurboTime's code vault, using his arms to propel himself towards the correct code box, which was towards the side of the cluster. He reached the three code boxes of the characters of TurboTime, but saw that his code box was the only one with a name. The other two just said NPC-1 and NPC-2. Turbo figured that the box that said NPC-2 was Piston's box, since he was the one who came last, so he gave the box a tap, and his gasped when he saw the inside. Light blue pixels were clinging to a good half of the wires and icons, and when Turbo tried to pry some off, he found that they had an iron grip.

"Throttle!" Turbo called, nervous.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I can do this!" Turbo yelled. It was true. He never encountered anything like this, and consequently didn't know how to deal with it.

"Turbo," Throttle called back, "please try!"

"Alright!" Turbo answered uncertainty, then returned his attentions to the code. He gripped one of the blue pixels, and, after struggling with it for some time, pulled it off. He let it go, and it floated in the void until it disappeared. Turbo knew those pixels were Piston's corruption software, which was what was causing the problem, not the pixels that made him up. Turbo now had to get rid of this software, fix the damage, and fix the original injuries, though they might not even exist now, after all the damage the corruption software caused. He sighed, and tugged on another pixel, which came off after a few minutes. He continued plucking pixels until his hands were tired from all the pulling, when he noticed that he barely dented it. At this rate, he would be stuck in the code room for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Come on... Get off!"

Turbo was yelling at the last pixel, which was stuck on the wire. Pixels stuck on the wire had to be handled sensitively, at risk of destroying the code. Finally, he pulled the pixel off the wire, and threw it into the abyss. He turned back to the code box, to survey the damage. Many of the little icons were dimmed and sparking, and a couple were out completely. Most of the wires were frayed, some more than others. Turbo lifted up his hand to start working, when he felt a sharp pain in it. He brought his hands up to his eye level, and felt sick when he saw them. They were badly bruised in choice places, and the tips of his fingers were red as well. Now that he paused for a moment, Turbo also felt lightheaded as well. He decided to do the rest of the codework the next day, so he gave the rope that was tethering him two tugs. Nothing happened, so he just floated back to the exit, where he found Throttle asleep on the ground, his end of the rope tied around one of his ankles, so it wouldn't drift off.

"Throttle, wake up!" Turbo yelled, tugging on the rope.

"What?!" Throttle snapped to attention and stood up, "Did you fix Piston's code?"

"Sort of," Turbo answered, "I got rid of the corruption software, so he won't be eaten alive by his own code, but I didn't fix the damage. I started getting lightheaded, which is what happens when you spend a long time in the code room, so I came back. I'll fix the damage tomorrow."

Throttle was nodding along with what Turbo was saying, then realized something.

"Are you going to come out of the code room or what?" Throttle asked rhetorically, because Turbo was still floating in the code room, just before the hallway. Throttle grabbed Turbo's hand and pulled him in, Turbo's legs buckling from the sudden rush of gravity.

* * *

"How bad is it?"

Turbo and Throttle were back at the house, where Throttle mustered up the courage to ask that question. He couldn't deny that he was scared of the outcome, and he wouldn't deny it. After all, Turbo did admit that he was uncertain on how to fix the code, so what if it's unfixable?

"Throttle, calm down," Turbo said, snapping Throttle out of his thoughts.

"I am calm," Throttle lied.

"No you aren't. You asked me how bad Piston's code was, then you started hyperventilating. Or, whatever you call something a little less than that. And, about Piston's code, I got rid of what was eating him alive, remember?"

"And, what was that?" Throttle asked, not remembering the earlier conversation very well, due to him being half-asleep during that time.

"His corruption software. Now all I have to do is-"

"Hold on," Throttle interrupted, "did I hear you correctly? Are you saying that Piston doesn't have any corruption software? What if- what if there's a virus around?!"

"Throttle, it's not that big a deal. I can easily get rid of almost any virus. True, I can't install a new corruption software, but it'll work out. And as I was saying, all I have to do now is fix what that corruption software broke."

Throttle nodded. Then, he remembered about the boxes in Turbo's code.

"Turbo, remember earlier today, we were in the code room, and when we came out, you finally fell asleep?" Throttle asked.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well" Throttle began, "when I was looking at your code, I saw this purple box that was knocked off of its wires by a jittering red box. I put that purple box back on its wires, then that's when we left the code room. I was just wondering what happened with the code boxes?"

Turbo thought for a moment, then remembered which boxes Throttle was talking about.

"Alright," Turbo explained, "you know how some arcades are open 24 hours a day?"

"Yeah?"

"Since the console can't decide where it goes after development, it might end up in one of those arcades. Usually, they're pretty empty at night, but what if there are more players than usual? The characters can't just fall asleep in the middle of a game! So, that purple box lets you sleep, in simple terms. When it's unplugged, it's impossible for you to fall asleep."

"But what about the red box?" Throttle asked.

"I'm getting to that," Turbo replied impatiently. "The red box controls emotions. Whenever you experience an extreme emotion, and I mean _extreme_, it'll start shaking. In fact, sometimes it takes two extreme emotions to get it shaking. That box in my code must've been shaking with such force that it knocked the purple box off its wires."

"So, what you're trying to tell me is that you got so guilty that the red box couldn't take it and started to shake so bad it ended up knocking the purple box off its wires?" Throttle asked, just to make sure he understood it.

"Yes, that's what I just said," Turbo confirmed.

Throttle pondered that for a while. Turbo clearly stated more than once that getting the red box shaking was no easy feat, so he came to the conclusion that Turbo was taking this harder than he realized. He was too concerned about Piston to notice it before now, but after he and Turbo sat down for a little while, he noticed that Turbo wasn't acting like himself. Far from it, actually.

"Turbo?" Throttle tried to think of the right words to say when he answered.

"Yeah?"

"You're not acting like yourself." That was blunt, and Throttle hoped Turbo wouldn't snap back at him. To his surprise, that wasn't what happened.

"I know," Turbo answered, "it's just everything that's going on lately. I mean, with all this happening, you can't possibly expect me to act normal. You aren't, for sure."

"That's not what I meant," Throttle tried to be less blunt. "You're acting different. Under normal circumstances, you would only be helping because you're the only one of us who knows code, and also to hold it over our heads later on. You're not doing that now."

Turbo sighed, and fiddled with his thumbs. After a few seconds, his shoulders sagged.

"Throttle," Turbo began, not even looking at Throttle, "if I tell you why I'm acting different, will you promise never to bring it up after this? Ever?"

This comment made Throttle wonder what Turbo's reason was that he was this secret about it, but nevertheless, he nodded in agreement, even though some nagging feeling told him that it was a bad idea.

"I promise," he added for good measure.

Turbo was surprised Throttle would agree when he didn't even know what his reason was. What if it was something atrocious? It wasn't, it was just embarrassing for Turbo, but what if it was?

"You going to tell me or what?" Throttle asked.

"Alright, I will. Just give me a minute."

"Let me guess," Throttle said, "it's either embarrassing, you're afraid I'll get angry, or both."

Turbo sighed. "Yeah."

"It's alright," Throttle reassured, "if its embarrassing, I won't hold it over you, and if I get angry, you can count on me not suffocating you."

"Alright, here goes," Turbo muttered to himself. "Besides the fact that this is all my fault to begin with, when we were racing, I accidentally hit Piston's kart. I _swear_ I didn't mean to hit him, I don't know what happened, my kart just jerked, out of nowhere! About a minute after that, I heard something explode. I guessed what happened, so I distanced myself so I could be in denial. I tried to come off as uncaring, hoping you'd leave me alone, but it didn't work. Because of the insomnia I had, those nights I wasn't delirious, I thought about the crash, and after, well, earlier today, I felt like I didn't have to hide anything anymore."

"Oh," was all that Throttle said. He didn't expect something like this from Turbo. He figured that he had disbelief and shock written all over his face, when Turbo continued.

"It's hard, with all this on my shoulders. It's my fault, and I have to fix it, and I know for a certainty that everything won't be the same after this. You aren't helping either." The last sentence, Turbo muttered under his breath, but Throttle caught it anyway.

"What do you mean, I'm not helping?"

"All this week, you were keep saying that it was all my fault and everything. I'm not saying you were in the wrong, but it... It hurt, okay!"

Turbo hung his head a little, like he was ashamed of what he just said. Throttle, meanwhile, started stammering.

"Turbo, I didn't- you- didn't mean- didn't know-"

"Quiet, Throttle, I told you, you're not in the wrong."

"I know, but still, I had no right to say it to you so much-"

"Enough!" Turbo snapped, turning away from Throttle. "Just stop, alright?!"

Throttle was at a loss for words. He didn't expect Turbo to react this way, so he simply placed his hand on Turbo's shoulder in a comforting gesture. He accepted it, and after a few minutes of just sitting there, Throttle began to get restless.

"Turbo, I don't want to come off as insensitive or anything, but don't you think we should get some codework done?" That was a fail. To Throttle, that had to be the most insensitive thing he'd ever uttered.

"You're not coming off as insensitive," Turbo reassured. "In fact, I think we should get codework done too. But we can't."

"What do you mean, we can't?" Throttle asked, confused.

"If you stay in the code room for too long, you go insane. Ten hours is the maximum time on end you can stay. After that, you have to wait another ten hours to go in again. I glanced at the clock before we left for the code room, and I looked a second time when we came back. It was ten hours. Ten hours of picking little pixels off..."

Turbo's voice got quieter and quieter as he started ranting to himself about the stubborn corruption system,and Throttle just shook his head and smiled, despite the situation.

"We'd better get some sleep," Turbo suggested. "It would definitely kill some time."

"Yeah," Throttle agreed, leaning on Turbo, who seemed amused.

"Really, Throttle, you're the only person I know that can sleep for ten hours straight and still be tired," Turbo said.

"Well, you're the only person I know that hallucinates pineapples," Throttle rebuffed.

"The pineapples, right, are you going to hold that over my head for the rest of my life?"

"Maybe," Throttle responded, dead serious, though Turbo wasn't sure how he knew about them. Maybe because he mentioned pineapples while he was delusional, and Throttle put two and two together.

Turbo was a little annoyed at first by Throttle using him as a pillow, but eventually he internally shrugged and fell asleep right next to the twin, leaning on him as well.


	11. Conclusion

Chapter eleven: Conclusion

The ten hour wait to go into the code room passed fairly quickly. Eight of those hours flew by, but the last two were riddled with anxiety and pacing around. Finally, the time came that Turbo could return to the code room.

As Turbo and Throttle walked towards the code room, Throttle realized that Turbo was shaking slightly.

"Turbo," he asked, "why are you shaking?"

"It's Piston's code," he answered. "It's badly damaged. Many of his pixels are gone. I might be able to fix it using other pixels from objects, but I'm not sure if the process will work with a complex code."

"How can you fix Piston's code with other pixels?" Throttle was confused. "Wouldn't that make him some sort of person-whatever hybrid?"

"No, actually," Turbo explained, "If you remove an object's pixels, and keep them out of a code box for a few minutes, without letting them float off in the abyss, they'll become neutral, and they can be accepted by anything. But I'm not sure it'll work with Piston. For complex codes, like Piston's, the only way to be certain the process'll work is if I use pixels from another complex code, and the only other complex codes in this game is my code, your code, and the karts, and they all need their pixels. Pixels from a simple code might not be accepted by Piston's code because they're weren't originally programmed into an object with the complexities of AI, or movement. Understand?"

"Uh, yeah," Throttle answered. Truth to be told, he could barely make heads or tails over what Turbo was saying. In the time it took Turbo to explain all that, the twosome reached the code room, opened the door, and Turbo was ready to go in.

"Good luck, Turbo" Throttle said while Turbo was tying the rope around his waist.

"Thanks," he answered before jumping in the abyss.

* * *

Turbo floated to the back of the large code cluster, to gather pixels. He thought of one thing he could do without deleting anything. He'll simply duplicate an item, and get pixels from the duplicate. Duplicating an item was an easy task, so Turbo just picked an object from the garage and duplicated it, only looking at what it was after the duplication. Now, for the hard part: extracting pixels. Of course, the pixels were stored in the icon box, so Turbo had to cut the icon box open and retrieve the highly condensed pixels, which was a sensitive procedure, because if something was done wrong, it could explode, and the pixels would stick to other icons, and would be absorbed in time, and then those icons would overload due to too many pixels, then they would explode, and it was a long chain reaction that could destroy the game, and it wasn't like Turbo could just gather up the pixels before they did any harm. One code icon contained thousands of pixels, so Turbo was nervous. He hasn't done this in so long, and he never did simple-to-complex before. The last time he did this was a few years ago. He made a new code box, duplicated two icons, and tried the procedure on them, far away from the other code boxes, and that was simple-to-simple! After he was finished, he deleted the box and its icons.

In the present, Turbo used his nail to make a small cut on the side of the duplicated icon, and stuck his finger in. A few of the pixels stuck to his finger, and he pulled it out, quickly cupping his other hand around the pixels. He floated there for a few minutes until the pixels stopped shaking, signaling that they were neutral and could be accepted by another code. Turbo floated over to Piston's box, and opened his hand near an icon that was dimmed just enough to be noticeable. The pixels flew towards it and stuck like a magnet. The icon started jittering as it detected the pixels, and preformed some tests to figure out if it should accept or reject them.

'_Please, work,'_ Turbo pleaded in his head. The icon stopped shaking, but the pixels were still attached.

'_This is it. It'll either accept the pixels, or they'll loose their grip and float off.'_

The pixels were absorbed.

Turbo was so happy, he hugged Piston's code box. He soon composed himself, and floated back to the duplicated icon to grab some more pixels.

* * *

Everything was going smoothly. All the icons accepted the new pixels, and in turn, the wires grew stronger. Except when Turbo tried the process on the icons with less than half their pixels, they continuously rejected the pixels. He floated aimlessly around, trying to figure out what the problem was. All the icons with more than half their pixels accepted the new ones without a problem, but not the others.

"Of course..." Turbo muttered as he dawned on the reason why this was so. When the icon accepted the new pixels, it was only because that icon had enough old pixels to make the new pixels configure to the old. The icons with less than half of their pixels didn't have enough old pixels to override the new. Turbo knew exactly how to fix the problem, now that he knew what it was. He simply had to get pixels from a complex code that had almost the same composition as Piston's code. Two such codes existed: Throttle's code and Turbo's own. It only took a second for Turbo to decide which code to use, since either one would do just fine. After all, he only needed enough pixels to level up Piston's icons to a little over halfway, and after he accomplished that, he could just fill in the spaces from the second box's icons with some other pixels. Simple. He floated back to Piston's code box, grabbing the code box he chose to use.

* * *

"I'm done!"

Turbo chose to float over to Throttle this time and startle him, instead of telling him to pull him in. Thankfully, Throttle didn't fall asleep this time.

"That was fast," Throttle remarked, pulling Turbo out of the code room. He immediately leaned on the wall, grasping his head.

"Throttle," Turbo started, "I have to repair Piston's kart. And you have to go back to the house. Piston's going to wake up soon, and he's not going to feel good. Headaches, dizziness, soreness, nausea, things like that."

Throttle stared at Turbo, who was rapidly blinking and holding his head.

"Why will he feel like that?" He asked.

"Because that's what happens when your code gets new pixels."

"Why are you acting like that, then?" Throttle asked. Turbo did look dizzy, at least to Throttle.

"Because I just came out of the code room," Turbo snapped, stumbling backwards and bending over slightly.

"You look worse than all of the other times you came out, though."

"Look, this isn't the time for 20 questions. Piston's going to wake up soon. Heck, he's probably already up! It'll only take a little while to fix Piston's kart, so just tie the rope to something and go!"

Throttle nodded and ran off. He stopped at the stairs and tied Turbo's rope to the stair rail.

"Wait!" He called to Turbo, making him turn around. "Just in case he asks, what did you use for Piston's new pixels?"

Turbo smiled.

* * *

Throttle slowly pushed the door to Piston's room open, and nervously walked in.

"Hey, Throttle," Piston greeted. Turbo was right when he said he would already be up. Throttle walked over to Piston's bedside, taking in the fact that he appeared completely healed.

"Could you help me sit up?" Piston requested. Throttle nodded and eased Piston into a sitting position, which was actually easier than he thought.

"I don't feel too well," Piston muttered.

"Let me guess: you're sore, dizzy, and nauseous," Throttle said. Piston stared at him.

"Now, how did you know that?"

"Turbo told me that's what happens when a program's code gets new pixels." Throttle paused for a moment as he recalled what Turbo told him in response to his question about the origins of Piston's new pixels.

"Also," he continued, "you're part monkey-wrench." Piston laughed, but soon trailed off.

"Where is Turbo, anyway?" He asked.

"Fixing your kart," Throttle answered. "He'll be out in a little while, though." Piston slightly nodded, staring out into space. Throttle waved his hand in front of Piston's face, and Piston blinked a few times. Throttle sat down on the edge of Piston's bed, and let a relived laugh escape his lips.

"Finally, it's over," Throttle muttered.

"You said it," Piston agreed, embracing Throttle with one hand, while holding his dully throbbing head with the other.

"I mean," Piston continued, "I could've died. I was scared, and I couldn't do a thing about it, and-"

"Shh," Throttle whispered, "try not to think about it, okay? Like I said, it's over. We don't need to worry about it anymore." The two pulled away from each other, and Throttle glanced towards the door to Piston's room, to see Turbo standing there with his hands jammed in his pockets, and his face clearly displaying sadness mixed with longing.

"That was fast," Throttle remarked for the second time that day.

"Well, I just had to disconnect the wires connecting Piston's kart to everything else, then reconnect them to reset his kart," Turbo explained, albeit quietly.

"Turbo, could you come over here?" Piston asked. He slowly walked over, and Throttle slid over to make room for him. Turbo sat down where Throttle was previously situated, and stared at Piston, sadness still written all over his face, with his downcast head, pursed lips, and crooked frown.

"Turbo," Piston began, "you have to stop eating yourself up over this. It's all over, and I don't want to see you like this. I want you to be like you usually are."

Turbo smirked at that, but it fell back into a frown after a second.

"You really want me to be a distant, grumpy, uncaring program?" Turbo asked. Throttle couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"It's better than being a depressed, guilty program, at any rate," Piston answered. In response, Turbo shut his eyes, gripped the sheets, and stared to shake slightly. Piston's eyes widened at this, and he directed his gaze to Throttle, who simply shrugged.

"Turbo..." Piston said, and Turbo looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Are you okay?" Turbo cracked another short-lived smile at that.

"I'm supposed to be asking you that, Piston. After what I did, I-"

Turbo'd voice was beginning to crack, so Piston tentatively embraced him, and Turbo went limp in his arms.

"Why aren't you mad?" Turbo continued, his voice muffled a little due to the fact that he had his head buried in Piston's shoulder. "I could've killed you, and you couldn't leave the game because of me, and you even tried to warn me, but I didn't listen, and... And..."

Turbo cut off at the end because his breathing was becoming more rapid, and now that Turbo stopped talking, both twins could hear sobbing.

"Turbo, are you crying?" Piston asked, surprised.

"No," Turbo denied, waving a hand in the air for emphasis, "it's this room. It's dusty. Dusty, dusty room..."

"He's crying," Throttle confirmed, putting a hand on Turbo's back. Turbo, meanwhile, latched on to Piston, instead of letting his hands be limp at his sides. He held on to Piston like he was afraid he would disappear into thin air, but not looking up once.

"Turbo," Piston began, "don't cry. I'm not mad at you, and besides, it's over now."

Turbo didn't move from his position, but his sobs did become quieter. Piston glanced at Throttle, at a loss for what to do. Throttle thought for a moment, then wormed his hands between Turbo's chin and Piston's shoulder, and gently pulled Turbo's head up so they faced each other. Turbo, surprisingly, didn't seem embarrassed in the least; he simply tried to keep a poker face, which failed due to the fact that he was still crying a little. Throttle gave him a sympathetic smile, and Turbo just stared at him, then responded with a relived laugh.

"I'm fine," Turbo claimed, quickly wiping his arm across his eyes. "I'm just... I'm just happy you're alright now," he said, addressing Piston. In a second, though, his crooked, relieved smile quickly left his face as he remembered what he had to do in the code room.

"There's something I have to tell you," he started tentatively. "When I was in the code room fixing your code, I had to do something."

"What?" Piston said nervously, "Am I linked to someone?"

"No, no link," Turbo reassured. "It's just, your corruption system was eating you alive, and I had to get rid of it."

"You mean... I don't have a corruption system?" Piston stared at Turbo, who nodded.

"No, you don't. But, I can get rid of almost any virus, so it's not really a problem."

Piston eyes him._ "Almost_ any virus?"

"Yeah, I think there's a couple that hides in codes, but they're very rare." Piston relaxed a little after that, then rubbed his hand, the one that was previously crushed. Throttle took note of that, and inched closer to Piston.

"Sore, right?" He asked. Piston nodded. Throttle turned to Turbo, who had a faint look of nausea on his face, though it could just be Throttle's eyes playing tricks on him.

"How long is this soreness going to last?" He asked Turbo.

"Few hours."

Throttle got up from Piston's bed, and so did Turbo.

"You better get some rest," he told Piston, "we're going to help you walk a little later." Piston nodded and turned away from Throttle and Turbo, who both walked out of Piston's room. When the two were in the hallway, Throttle could swear he heard Turbo mumble something along the lines of 'I'm sore all over'.

"You're sore?" Throttle responded, "Why?"

"Uh, I was, you know, in the code room for a long time, and who wouldn't be sore?" Turbo gave a little laugh after that and walked towards his own room a little faster.

"Okay..." Throttle said uncertainty. Before going in his room, Turbo stopped, spun around, and pointed at Throttle.

"By the way," he said, "if you tell anyone details of what happened this week, you're dead." It was one of the empty threats he made to get a point across, and he made sure to make that obvious. Throttle smiled.

_"That's_ the Turbo I know."

* * *

_A/N: One more chapter after this..._


End file.
